


Paid in Full

by Natalie L (nat1228)



Series: A Mortgaged Life [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Angst, Drama, Episode Related, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Series, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nat1228/pseuds/Natalie%20L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair's past rises up to put a damper on his budding new relationship with Jim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paid in Full

## Paid in Full

by Natalie L

Author's website:  <http://www.squidge.org/~nat1228/TSslash.htm>

Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. No profit is being made from the posting of this story.

I am greatly indebted to Montserrat who kept after me to expand and add scenes to the story. Her suggestions have greatly enriched the experience. I am also most thankful to Jessica and Lyn, who despite the subject matter, were able to get through the story and give me very insightful help. And lastly, to Mary, who intrepidly gave this a final look, so that I could post a clean copy, and who called me on the dialysis thing (hope I got it right). Where would we be without our betas? Thanks, gals! And more thanks to Becky's transcripts and the writers of "Rogue," "Siege," "Black or White," and "Hear No Evil," for paraphrased excerpts from the episodes.

In addition to the warnings listed below, you will also find graphic torture, graphic sex, and graphic descriptions of bodily functions. This is not my usual fare, but there IS a happy ending. CAVEAT LECTOR -- there is an additional spoiler at the very end of the story for those who are particularly squeamish. I was reluctant to put this story on the archives because of the graphic content, but finally decided it was more likely to find readership here than buried on my webpage for all eternity. For those who like this kind of thing -- enjoy!

This story is a sequel to: Paying the Rent 

* * *

_Mid-February, 1992:_

Jim rolled over to gather the pliant, naked body to him. He still had problems fathoming the good fortune that had brought Blair Sandburg into his life, but he wasn't going to question his luck. The object of his musings stretched and opened vivid blue eyes. 

"'Morning, Jim," Blair slurred, still groggy from sleep. He rolled out of Jim's embrace onto his back. 

"'Morning, Beautiful." Jim turned over so that he could reach the slightly-parted lips, covering them with his own eager mouth. Arms wrapped around him and a hot tongue battled his own for dominance. The sensual kiss ignited a fire in his groin, and he felt himself becoming hard against a firm thigh. He broke away from the full lips to rain kisses down Blair's neck. He stopped to suckle the prominent Adam's apple, causing the young man beneath him to moan and arch his back. 

Gentle hands led the way, brushing lightly over sensitive nipples until the nubs stood straining in the cool morning air. His mouth followed the trail of his hands. His lips engulfed one nipple -- sucking, nipping at the tender flesh before moving to give its twin equal treatment. 

Blair arched into Jim's mouth, moaning and squirming under the sensual touch. "Oh God, Jim," he moaned. "Do it. Please!" He writhed under the lips that teased his nipples, wanting -- needing -- more. 

"Are you sure?" Jim looked up from his position on Blair's chest. 

Blair nodded furiously. "How many times do I have to tell you before you believe me?" he groaned. "I. Want. You. In. Me." 

"Roll over, then," Jim instructed. Blair turned onto his side, facing away from his lover. Lubing his fingers, Jim began the gentle stroking required to loosen the tight passage. To take the young man's mind off the temporary discomfort, his other hand carefully held and stroked the lax penis. 

Soft whimpers and moans of distress reached the sensitive ears of the sentinel. All motion ceased. He pulled his fingers out of the young man's ass, and stopped petting the unresponsive cock. "Blair? What's the matter?" he whispered, brushing loose strands of long hair from his face. 

"I wanna get hard for you," he sniffed. "It's not fair. I want to be able to love you, too. I'm always _taking_ from you, never giving back." 

"That's not true," Jim assured him. "The help you've given me with my senses _more_ than makes up for anything I've done for you. I'm the one who owes here, not you." 

"But, but...." Blair stammered, roughly grabbing his cock and stroking it hard. He grimaced at the pain, but persevered until Jim's hand stilled him. 

"Don't." The command was quietly spoken, but carried the weight of Jim's military training. "Don't hurt yourself for me. Time, Blair. Give yourself time." He took the hand that had ravaged the injured penis and put it to his mouth, kissing gently. Then, laying the hand across Blair's chest, he went back to the gentle massage of the organ. 

Blair moaned. "Oh God, Jim. You make me feel so good. Loved. I love you." 

"I love you, too," Jim responded. He peppered the young man's abdomen with feather-light kisses, then moved his supple mouth to the unresponsive cock. Sucking the organ into his mouth, he played with it, rolling it over and under his tongue, tasting the salty tang of perspiration. Blair arched into the sensations, lifting his hips, wanting desperately to fuck the talented mouth that teased him. He moaned as the continued sucking sent bolts of electricity up his spine. 

Jim continued the gentle, persistent stimulation until he felt a slight swelling. He pulled away so that his lips engulfed only the flared head. His tongue played with the slit, teasing the tiny hole, tasting the first droplets of pre-come as the injured organ fought its way to fullness. 

Blair's hips bucked under him now, needy cries and whimpers stealing the young man's voice. Desperate hands clawed at the short hair, trying to pull Jim down to take in the entire length of the shaft. 

Jim obliged, opening his throat for the slowly filling organ. His teeth scraped teasingly over the bruised flesh, as Blair became more and more insistent with his thrusts. 

A strangled moan escaped Blair's lips, and with a final thrust, he emptied his semen down Jim's willing throat. 

Jim swallowed eagerly, suckling the lax cock to clean every drop of come from the surface. He finally released the organ, admiring it as it lay glistening against the dark patch of springy hair. "I think that makes us even," he said with a mischievous grin. 

"Oh God, Jim," Blair panted. "Even. More than even. Thank you. I love you." 

Jim gathered the cooling body against his own, stilling the torrent of words with a kiss. "Love you, too." 

~oO0Oo~ 

Blair made his way carefully down the stairs, his clothing rubbing mercilessly at his still-tender crotch. Jim looked up from where he was preparing breakfast in the kitchen. "Hey, Chief! How are you doing?" 

"Fine," came the unconvincing answer as Blair tried to find a method of walking that didn't hurt. 

Jim put down his spoon and walked over to meet the young man. He placed a gentle hand on Blair's shoulder, and gave a slight shake of his head. "You're talking to the human lie detector here, Buddy. Even if I _couldn't_ hear the hammering of your heart, I'd know you're not 'fine' by the way you walk. Jeans hurt?" 

"Oh God, Jim... like you wouldn't believe." Blair sat carefully at the table, unwilling to move around more than he had to. "I've been out of the hospital for nearly a week! You'd think it would be getting better." 

Jim dished up the hot oatmeal, topping it with a sprinkle of brown sugar, then brought it, along with the toast, juice and coffee to the table, before finally sitting down opposite his new roommate. "Your penis was pretty severely bruised," he reminded him. "Those things take time." Seeing the embarrassment color his companion's face, he reached across the table to pat Blair's hand. "Don't worry. The doctor said there's no permanent damage. I think we proved that this morning. Right?" 

The question brought a smile to Blair's lips. "Yeah, I guess we did, didn't we? Thanks, Jim." 

"No. Thank _you_ ," Jim insisted with a sly grin. Changing the subject, he asked, "Do you think you feel up to going down to the station for a while this morning? I know the guys there would like to get to know you better, and Simon would be relieved to see how well you're doing." 

"Sure," Blair agreed. "I can manage." 

"Uh-uh-uh...." Jim wagged a finger at the young man. "You don't really want to go in, do you?" 

"Of course I do! Geez, Jim, you don't have to analyze _everything_ I say through your 'lie detector'," Blair snorted, concentrating on his meal. 

"You don't have to agree to everything I ask," Jim said, speaking more softly. "You don't _owe_ me that. You don't owe me anything. We're even. Paid in full." 

Blair shook his head. "You brought me into your home, gave me a roof and food. You paid for this semester's textbooks because I was broke," he paused momentarily. "You saved my life! You rescued me from Mr. B. How can I ever repay that?" 

"You already have," Jim insisted. "When I found you, I was on the brink of checking in to the funny farm. My senses were spiking at inconvenient and unpredictable times. I had no idea what was wrong with me. I thought I was going crazy." He reached across the table to take one of Blair's hands, squeezing gently. "You were the one who told me what was going on -- who explained my senses to me. And then you taught me control. Blair, you gave me back my life! I think that makes us even." 

"Tricks, man. All I taught you were a few cheap tricks," Blair answered, unconvinced. 

"But they were tricks that made my life a whole lot easier. I'd be locked away in a mental institution right now, if it weren't for you. I was all alone, Blair, and sinking fast," Jim insisted. "And then there's the little matter of your other gift." 

"Other gift?" Blair looked up, curious. "I didn't give you anything...." 

"Are you kidding?" Jim was amazed Blair didn't see it. "You gave me your love. Do you realize how unusual that is?" Blair shook his head. "Contrary to what many straight people think," Jim explained, "being gay is not a choice. I didn't just wake up one morning and decide I'd switch to loving men. I've always been attracted to the masculine gender. Oh, that's not to say I don't appreciate a pretty face or a great pair of legs, but women don't get my motor running. Understand?" 

Blair nodded. "Yeah, but..." 

"But," Jim interrupted, "here you come along, straight as the proverbial arrow, and decide you love me. That's like turning day into night and night into day. It's an incredible gift of trust and devotion. How can I repay _that_? If you ask me, I'm the one in _your_ debt." 

Blair had gone back to stirring his oatmeal, a slight blush warming his cheeks. "I can't help how I feel. I don't understand it, either. It just _is_." 

"Well, what it _is_ makes us even in my book," Jim insisted. "Now... you're staying home today. Take those jeans off. You'll be much more comfortable in just your boxers. Hell, take them off, too, if you want. You can't get much more privacy than here in the loft. Besides," he added with a grin, "coming home to a half-naked roommate is a gay man's wet dream." 

Blair actually chuckled, looking up into the warm pools of blue that stared back at him. "If naked makes you happy, naked it is." 

Jim's heart skipped a beat at the casual statement. His hearing picked up the pounding heartbeat from across the table. "Dammit, Sandburg!" he blew up. "I didn't want to think it. How damn naive do you think I am? I told you before not to use your body as a commodity! You're 'selling' yourself to me because it makes you feel like you're paying me back. Right? _Right_? 

"No, Jim." Blair looked abashed by the accusation. "That's not it at all." 

"A straight man doesn't go gay overnight," Jim shot back. "They say love is blind. I guess the damn fools are right. I love you, Blair. I believed you." 

"But..." 

"I want you to get your stuff out of my bedroom. You can sleep downstairs from now on," Jim said, picking up his dishes and heading for the sink. "I made you a promise and I'm going to keep it. You've got room and board for as long as you need it. Just keep your ass out of my bed!" 

Stunned, Blair sat quietly listening to Jim's tirade. His heart ached at the angry words, but he knew his host was serious. He'd have to move out of the loft bedroom, and hope he could convince the man he loved that he was wrong. 

"You take it easy today, hear me?" Jim said, his voice softening a bit as he grabbed his coat. "You've still got some recovering to do." 

As the door closed behind the upset detective, Blair sighed. He stood and carried his dishes to the sink. The movement was pure agony, and he found himself taking Jim's advice. Unbuckling his belt, he pulled down the zipper on the confining denim and wiggled out of his jeans. 

Running the water in the sink, he decided to wash up the few dishes they'd dirtied, instead of loading the water and energy-eating dishwasher. When he had finished, he moved to put the mugs and bowls away, only to find that even his cotton boxers were too much. 

_"A gay man's wet dream,"_ he thought ruefully, pulling off the boxers as well. _"I hope Jim won't mind that I'm half naked when he comes home."_ He took the shed clothing to the downstairs bedroom, then slowly trudged upstairs to retrieve the rest of his belongings. 

He looked over the rumpled bed, deciding to change the sheets so that his scent wouldn't bother the sentinel's nose that night. After making the bed, he dusted the tables with a clean pair of briefs, straightening everything just the way Jim liked it. It took three trips to carry down all of his things, including the dirty laundry. 

He stood with the armload of sheets, contemplating doing the wash. Unfortunately, the building's laundry facilities were in the basement, and Blair wasn't ready to put on his pants just yet. Depositing the sheets in the hamper, he looked around the rest of the apartment. If he was going to live here, the least he could do was help clean. Jim had been busy with a case that had taken not only his regular working hours, but overtime as well. The detective hadn't had time to clean the past week between work and playing nursemaid to his injured roommate. 

There was more than one way to pay back a kind deed. And Blair did still want to repay it, despite the hurt Jim's harsh words had caused this morning. 

He began by dusting -- tables, bookshelves, curios -- anything he could get his hands on, including the African tribal mask he had hanging on the living room wall, and the bundle of dried red peppers that collected cobwebs in the kitchen. 

Next, he cleaned out the fireplace, carefully disposing of the winter's accumulation of ash. He appreciated the extra warmth the fireplace provided, and was pleased that Jim frequently lit it for his benefit. Memories of cold nights in his drafty warehouse still managed to cover him with goosebumps. 

The ashes made a mess, so his next chore was dust-mopping the hardwood floor, followed by using the carpet sweeper on the area rug in front of the couches. 

The day was slipping by quickly as he worked. Blair barely noticed the time as he entered the bathroom, armed with the tools needed to scrub the shower. He was elbow deep in his last project, the toilet bowl, when he heard the distinctive "snick" of a key in the front door. 

Jim walked into the sparkling loft, looking around in surprise. Dust motes floated in the beams of the pale February sun, but few had settled on the clean furniture. The delicate smell of the unscented cleaners he'd been forced to buy permeated the air. "Blair?" 

"In the bathroom," the familiar voice called out. 

Jim made his way to the bathroom, prepared to knock, only to see the roundness of two bare ass cheeks greeting him. The rest of the anthropologist appeared to be down in the toilet bowl. A rush of desire shot through him at the sight, igniting an unwanted fire in his groin. "Blair?" he asked, gasping when the student turned, exposing his casual nudity. Jim's cock came to instant attention. He had to fight against the desire to fuck the delicious young man where he squatted on the bathroom floor. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "What do you think you're doing?" 

"Cleaning the bathroom," came the obvious answer. 

"You were supposed to be resting," Jim reminded him. 

Blair stood up and washed his hands before turning on his Blessed Protector. "I'm not tired, just sore," he said with a brief gesture in the direction of his groin. "The apartment was a mess, so I cleaned." 

"More pay back, I suppose?" Jim asked, his earlier anger resurfacing. 

"No, Jim," Blair said flatly. "Just something a thoughtful person with time on their hands might do. The place needed cleaning. You've been busy working and taking care of me. I just wanted to do my part. We share the chores, right?" 

"Right," Jim reluctantly agreed. "Sorry for jumping on your ass like that." 

A wistful look entered Blair's eyes as he spoke softly. "I wish you would." 

"Would what?" Jim asked, looking bemused. 

"Never mind." Blair waved off the comment and began to put away his cleaning supplies. "I started dinner -- chicken with dumplings." 

"Smells great," Jim complimented. "I'm starved. When will it be ready?" 

"I just need to steam some string beans," Blair answered, moving to the kitchen to finish up their meal. He grabbed an apron, tying it around his waist. The kitchen garment managed to hide his privates without irritating his tender cock. No need to make Jim uncomfortable with his partial nudity if there was no good reason. The table had been set earlier, before he had started on the bathroom, so he now carried the casserole over and set it between them. 

"Here you go, Jim. Hope you like it," Blair said, taking his own seat and helping himself to some of the beans. 

"I haven't had chicken with dumplings since I lived at home," he sighed. "Sally, our housekeeper, was a great cook. We had dumplings at least a couple times a month, more if Dad was home to nag her about it. Mmmm... this is good!" he said, savoring the mellow flavors that titillated his senses without sending them into overdrive. "You should cook more often." 

"Happy to do it," Blair agreed. "I enjoy cooking. But," he added, "I do expect a meal from you occasionally, or a dinner out." 

"You got it." Jim shoveled more of the delicious morsels into his mouth, chewing with delight. 

After dinner, Jim volunteered to do the dishes while Blair rested on the couch, watching television. "Want to watch the boxing match?" the student asked while surfing the channels for something interesting. "Sweet Roy Williams is fighting tonight." 

"Sure," Jim agreed, wiping his hands and joining the young man on the couch. "Is he any good?" 

"Oh, the best, man. The best," Blair said, snuggling down next to his companion. Without a second thought, Jim draped an arm across the sturdy body nestled into his and settled down to watch the match. "With the right promotion, Roy's going right to the top." 

"You really like this guy, don't you?" Jim asked with a smile, surprised to find his young friend a fan of the pugilistic art. 

"Oh, yeah." Blair nodded. "Roy and I go way back." 

Jim eyed him with surprise. "Say what?" 

"It's a long story," Blair answered with a chuckle. "Remind me to tell you about it sometime." 

The match lasted only five rounds, but by the end Blair was yawning widely. 

"It's been a long day, kid," Jim said, standing and assisting Blair to his feet. "Maybe you ought to go to bed." 

"Yeah," Blair said, suddenly deflated. He shuffled off toward the small downstairs bedroom. "Good-night, Jim." 

"Good-night." 

Blair entered his room and stripped off his shirts before climbing into bed nude and pulling the blankets up over his body. The bed felt hard and cold compared to the luxury of his former sleeping arrangements. It wasn't the bed so much, as the lack of companionship. He wanted so much to convince Jim that he really, truly loved him. Jim's care and concern for him since he'd rescued the young student from a life of prostitution, had become the center of Blair's universe -- the core upon which he built his self-esteem. 

Sleep was a long time in coming. Blair lay in the dark, listening to the sounds Jim made as he bustled around the house, finally entering the bathroom to get ready for bed. The feet on the stairs, and the squeak of the springs as Jim eventually climbed into his bed, were magnified in the small room. With a sigh, Blair closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. 

But with it came the nightmares. Shadowy figures in a dark room, taunting him, teasing him... raping him. 

Soft sobs woke Jim, who had only just managed to drift off to sleep. The bed seemed too large and empty without Blair there to fill it. He climbed out of bed, putting on his robe and headed downstairs to the source of the sound that woke him. Entering the spare bedroom, he approached the huddled figure curled on the futon. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he put out his hand to quiet the shuddering body. 

"Blair? Blair, it's me, Jim." He shook the student gently. "C'mon. Wake up. You're having a nightmare." Even in the dark room, Jim could see the young man as clearly as if it were day. Large eyes opened, staring up at him, foggy with tears. 

"S-sorry, Jim," Blair instantly apologized. "I didn't mean to wake you. I'm okay." 

"No, you're not," Jim denied. "You were having a nightmare." 

"Well, I'm okay now," Blair insisted. "You can go back to bed." 

"I think maybe I'll sit here with you a while longer... just until you go back to sleep." 

"Okay," Blair said, secretly grateful for the company. 

Jim stroked the silken hair with a soothing rhythm. Already he missed touching Blair like this. He wanted so much to believe him when he said he was in love. But Blair was young, maybe too young, and he was focused on paying a debt Jim didn't even figure he owed. It had saddened Jim to expel this exquisite young man from his bed, this young man who was now broken, hurting and more in need of his love than ever. But life was a cruel game, and not always fair. Until he was convinced that Blair truly loved him for himself, and not for what he'd done, he'd keep him here, out of his bed. 

Blair's heartbeat slowed to the steady rhythm of sleep, and Jim got up to return to his own lonely room. 

Later that night, Jim was awakened by the slight dipping of the mattress on Blair's side of the bed. The scent of tears greeted his nose as his visitor rolled into his arms, plastering his cold, naked body against Jim's welcoming heat. "Please," came the muffled plea from the vicinity of his chest. "Don't make me go." 

"What's the matter?" Jim asked, straightening the blankets to tuck his companion in. He wrapped a comforting arm around Blair's waist, pulling him even closer. 

"I-I d-don't have n-nightm-mares when I sleep here," came the sniffled reply. 

"That's okay, Sweetheart," Jim crooned, slipping into his old habit of love names. "You can stay." 

"I-I love y-you," the voice continued. "P-please don't make me go." 

"You don't have to go anywhere," Jim assured him. "Just sleep now. Okay?" 

"You'll m-make m-me sleep d-downstairs again t-tomorrow," came the stuttered accusation. "I l-love you, J-Jim. I deserve t-to sleep here." 

"Shh, shh." Jim tried to soothe his upset bedmate. "We can talk in the morning." 

"I-I'm not repaying a d-debt," Blair muttered, his voice getting heavy with sleep. "I really d-do love you." 

Something inside Jim broke. He knew his frightened and exhausted companion was telling the truth. "I know," he whispered. "Everything's going to be all right." 

The next morning, Blair woke in Jim's arms. He smiled and began suckling on the nipple near his mouth. The moan of the sentinel, as the man awoke to the delicious sensation, was music to his ears. He moved higher, capturing the lips of the waking man in a tender kiss which promised to grow hotter as Jim climbed his way to full consciousness. 

When they finally broke apart, Blair took Jim's left hand and placed it over his own heart. "Listen, Jim. Hear my heartbeat. Know that I'm telling you the truth," he began. "Last night when I said I loved you, that was no lie, no obfuscation, no paying of debts. It was from my heart. I can't explain why I love you. I'm not even sure how to describe my orientation anymore. You're the _only_ man for me, Jim Ellison, and I love you with my very soul." 

Jim felt the slow, steady rhythm of the heart beating beneath his hand and knew his most fervent prayers had been answered. His response to Blair's confession was to roll the young man onto his back and begin a very gentle and thorough mapping of his naked body. Nothing was left untouched, unexplored. Blair writhed under the sensual touch, moaning his approval. His injured cock twitched, indicating his high arousal. 

His own arousal was becoming almost more than Jim could bear. Nudging at Blair's anus, he was pleased to find his lover relaxed and ready for him. While the animal in him screamed to claim his mate, the man in him called out for gentleness. Their loving was slow and sensual, a feast of arousal and completion for both men. Sated, they collapsed in a satisfied heap to sleep a little longer. 

_A week later:_

"I have an idea," Jim said over breakfast. "A way for you to contribute more... if you want," he added hastily. 

Blair swallowed his oatmeal and looked up at his partner. "Are you crazy? What's the idea?" 

"I've been testing Simon's resistance to the idea that I might want a partner," Jim began. "A civilian observer, who could help me with my senses on the job." 

"That's a _great_ idea!" Blair enthused. "Think he'll go along with it?" 

"Hard telling," Jim admitted. "Simon's not too keen on civilians, especially when they might be placed in danger because of the job." 

"But you can convince him? Right?" Blair was bouncing in his chair, almost unable to stay seated. "Wow. I could be there to help you out in the field. A zone-out on the job could be deadly." He nodded. "I could do that. And, I might get some new information to add to my notes about sentinels." 

"Whoa. Slow down, Darwin," Jim said, laughing. "You still have to attend classes. This would be part-time work, _without_ pay. You'd do it in your spare time. Any time that you're not in school." 

"I understand, Jim. Wow," he sighed. "This is perfect!" 

_Cascade PD:_

"I still don't particularly like the idea," Simon hedged, "but I've decided to sign off on it anyway. On a trial basis," he added. "Jim, take Sandburg down to Vera in Personnel." He turned to the new civilian observer. "She'll give you some forms to fill out -- tell you what you need to know to get the ball rolling." 

"Thanks, Simon," Jim said, sincerely grateful that his boss had agreed to the arrangement. "C'mon, Chief. I'll introduce you to Vera." 

~oO0Oo~ 

Vera looked the young man up and down, uncertain what to make of his unusual appearance. She handed him a book and several forms. "You're required to read the manual, fill out the application materials, and sign the consent form," she said. 

Blair was still bouncing. "Great, great. When I'm done with all this, I should qualify for a license to kill, huh?" he teased. Vera gave him a wilting look, but the anthropologist was not intimidated. 

"We've got a couple of hours here, Chief. So I'm going to be leaving you in Vera's capable hands. All right?" Jim asked. 

"Sure," Blair agreed, eager to finish the paperwork. He watched as Jim exited the room, then turned back to the middle-aged woman behind the desk. 

"Now, Mr. Sandburg, the department requests all incoming personnel to submit to a drug test," Vera continued. "I hope that's not a problem for you?" 

Blair looked mildly scandalized by the question. "Oh, come on! Do I look like that would be a problem?" He paused, taking stock of his current appearance. "Don't answer that," he added. 

"We need a urine sample," Vera said, handing him a specimen cup. "Do you know your way to the men's room?" Blair shook his head. "Go out this door and turn right. Then down the corridor until you almost reach the intersection. It's on your right." 

"Thanks." Blair nodded and took the cup, returning a few minutes later with the requested sample. Sitting down at a small table, he proceeded to fill out and sign all the forms, then settled in to read the manual while he waited for Jim to come pick him up. 

_Early March:_

Joel stopped Blair in the hallway outside the break room. "I just wanted to thank you again," he said, "for what you did." 

"Aw, c'mon." Blair brushed off the appreciation. "I didn't do much of anything." 

"But you did," Joel insisted, taking Blair by the arm and guiding him into the break room. "Coffee?" Blair nodded and Joel put some quarters into the machine. "If you hadn't told me that far out story of yours, I never would have had the nerve to go in and diffuse that bomb." 

* * *

"He's lost his nerve, hasn't he?" Blair asked, eyeing the bomb squad captain who was half a hallway ahead of them. "What's the story?" 

"Couple months back, before I met you, we had a case that involved an ex-CIA rogue," Jim explained. "The guy stole a canister of Ebola virus and threatened to release it on Cascade unless I helped him steal a new top secret super-stealth plane." 

"Oh, man!" Blair breathed. "What happened? I mean, obviously we're all still here...." 

"We got him," Jim confirmed. "But not before he set a decoy bomb that nearly killed Joel, Carolyn and a couple other officers." 

Blair shook his head in sympathy. "Man oh man, no wonder he's shaken up. I'm going to go talk with him." 

"I'm not sure that's the best idea," Jim hedged. "He's pretty upset right now." 

"You stay put -- let me handle this." Blair gave his partner a slight shove, stopping him in his tracks, and hurried forward to where Joel Taggert was about to turn the corner at the end of the hallway. 

"Hey, Joel," he said, panting slightly in his effort to catch the captain before he disappeared. 

"Oh, hi... Blair, isn't it?" Joel smiled at the observer. 

"Yeah." Blair nodded. "I, um, kind of overheard some of your conversation with Captain Banks, so I asked Jim to explain the situation to me." 

"Look, kid. It's no business of yours," Taggert said kindly. "I'm dealing with it." 

"Joel, fear is not about lack of ability," Blair persisted, staying right in the large captain's face. "Every shrink I've been to has talked to me about the blind spot." 

"And what is that?" Joel asked politely, knowing he wouldn't be rid of the young man until he'd had his say. 

"It's a condition common to creative types, such as yourself. It happened to this anthropological student that I knew," Blair began, warming to his subject. "He was out doing research in Nepal and an avalanche hit. So he goes out with the rescue team and they come across this rope bridge -- 2,000-foot drop, Joel. He starts making his way across and all of a sudden he locks up. The Sherpa guide comes up behind him and grabs him by the arm and says 'This is not about you.' You hear what I'm saying? It's not about you." 

"And then what happened?" Joel asked, finding to his surprise that he really did want to know how the story ended. 

"Then he made his way across," Blair concluded. He grabbed Joel's upper arm and looked directly into the black man's eyes. "You see what I'm saying, Joel, is it's mind over matter." 

Joel nodded, then asked, "You, uh, still know this guy?" 

"Yeah, it was me." 

* * *

Joel handed the steaming cup of coffee to his new young friend. "That was a turning point for me," he admitted. "Thanks to you, I was able to take care of the explosives in this case. I've made a decision, though," he said, pausing to take a sip of his own coffee. 

"What's that?" Blair asked. 

"I'm getting out of the bomb business. I've talked to Simon and I'm going to continue to work with Major Crime as a detective and as Simon's backup." When Blair turned a worried look toward his friend, he explained. "I'm not taking a demotion. I'll keep my captain's rank." 

"That's a relief," Blair said with a smile. 

Jim stuck his head through the break room door. "Time to go, Darwin. Enough of the chit-chat." He looked up at his fellow detective. "How's it going, Joel?" 

"Better than ever, Jim, thanks to our friend here." Joel patted Blair's shoulder, then gave him a little shove. "You'd better get along, kid. Talk to you later." 

"Bye, Joel," Blair called out as Jim dragged him through the door. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"Can you keep it down?" Jim grumbled as Blair made his way around the kitchen preparing dinner. 

"You sure have been grumpy lately," Blair observed, putting down the skillet he was holding and walking over to where Jim stood near the balcony doors. He came up right behind the sentinel, all but touching him with his nearness. "Hearing been spiking?" he asked very softly. Jim nodded. "Thought so." 

He turned and walked into the small bedroom that had become a study area for him since he had started sleeping with Jim. He emerged a minute later with a small device in his hand. Approaching the sentinel, he turned it on and a quiet hiss filled the room. "Well?" 

"Well, what?" 

"Does it work?" Blair asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

"Oh, yeah, yeah," Jim answered sarcastically. "I'm all ready to wax my board and hit the surf. You're kidding with this, right? What is this?" 

"What else do you hear, Jim?" Blair persisted. 

"Traffic," he said, gesturing to the open balcony door. "You." He paused a beat. "At normal volume," he added with a hint of surprise. 

"Yes! It works!" Blair crowed, pulling down a fist in a victory gesture. "That's a white noise generator," he explained. "People use it to block out unwanted sound, like if you have trouble sleeping at night." 

"Or if you have sentinel hearing on the fritz," Jim added. 

"Exactly!" 

"I can't go around carrying that thing in my pocket," Jim pointed out, disappointed. "Too bad, because it really seems to work." 

"Not to worry," Blair assured him, digging in the pocket of his jeans for a small box. "I've got these." He handed the box to Jim, who opened it, staring at the contents. "Miniature white noise generators. You put them in your ears, like earplugs," he explained. 

Jim lifted the small devices, turning on the miniature power supplies and putting them into his ears. "Nice," he sighed, gathering Blair into his arms and kissing him soundly. "Thank you, Einstein. Nobody has ever bothered to go to so much trouble for me before." 

"Then you haven't been hanging around the right people," Blair concluded. 

"Such devotion deserves a reward," Jim teased, running his fingers through the tangles of Blair's long hair and tilting the young man's face up to his. "What is it you desire?" 

"After dinner?" Blair asked with an air of practicality. At Jim's frustrated snort, he laughed. "Welllll..." he drawled. "You promised that when I was up to it, you'd teach me what it's like to make love to you." He grinned. "I'm up to it." 

~oO0Oo~ 

Blair collapsed on top of Jim in a sated heap. "Oh God! Now _that's_ a transcendental experience!" the young man sighed, resting his head between Jim's shoulder blades. "Thank you." 

Jim let out a contented sigh, more than happy to support the weight of his living blanket. "You're welcome. Any time you want more practice, just let me know." 

Blair chuckled and rolled onto the bed, snuggling close to the man he loved. "I'll definitely want to be trying that again," he confirmed. 

"Better than a woman?" Jim asked with a lazy smile. 

"Mmmm... different," Blair answered with a satisfied drawl. "Nice. Really nice. Good." 

A finger to his lips stemmed the flow of words. Lips quickly replaced the finger, as Blair was drawn into a firm embrace. "I don't know what twist of fate brought you into my life," Jim murmured as he held the young man. "But I thank God every day that I found you." 

The muffled reply of his sleepy partner drifted up from beneath his chin. "Thank Him for me, too." 

~oO0Oo~ 

Blair shifted uncomfortably on the roof of the building overlooking the one they had under surveillance. He squinted through the zoom lens of the camera he was using to watch the proceedings. A limo drove into the warehouse garage, disappearing into the darkness of the building. 

"It's too dark in there. I can't see anything," Blair complained. 

Jim's mouth was pulled into a tight smile. "Well, I can. Looks like $30 million was a conservative estimate," he said, referring to the bags of heroin that were being unloaded. 

The garage door was abruptly pulled down and Jim backed off, rubbing at his eyes. "Whoa, whoa, man. My eyes. That light just knocked the hell out of me. Whoa. Well, that's a new one," he stammered, recovering his equilibrium. 

"You okay?" Blair asked, concerned for his partner. He rested a steadying hand on Jim's shoulder. 

"Yeah, it just whacked out my senses for a moment," Jim explained. "Wow. I'd like to get in there with my hearing, but if I take out my white noise generators, I'm screwed." 

Blair's eyes lit up. "You know, I've got an idea," he said. "You see what just happened to your sight? It was kind of like a zone-out, right?" 

"Yeah," Jim admitted warily, "but I was still aware of my other senses." 

"Right," Blair agreed excitedly. "Let's try a little experiment. When you take out your white noise generators, see if you can consciously make your hearing piggyback on your sight into the warehouse. See if you can get the two to link up. Let your eyes guide your ears." 

Jim carefully removed the white noise filters from his ears and concentrated on guiding his hearing using his eyes. His sight expanded, following through the small windows in the garage door, leading his hearing along with it. 

"Let me see the cash," a voice demanded. 

A second voice responded. "It's all there, buddy." 

"We trust you," the first voice said. "There's other people I answer to." 

"Let's get out of here," the second voice urged as gunfire began to sound and the police converged on the warehouse. 

Jim rocked back as the noise and action battered at his expanded senses, fighting to get them under control. He hurriedly shoved the earplugs back into his abused ears. 

Blair was all over him, wrapping protective arms around the embattled sentinel. "Jim! You all right?" His large blue eyes were wide with concern. 

"Yeah," Jim answered, finally getting his senses under control. "That wasn't so bad then, huh?" 

"Were you able to see through that glass and hear what they were saying?" Blair asked, the scientist in him needing to know. 

Jim nodded. "Yeah, until the shooting started and then I just lost my bearings." 

Blair smiled. "It worked. All right, we're learning something," he said, looking pleased that Jim had been able to use his new technique. "Maybe we should get you back home?" 

"I'm fine," Jim insisted. "Let's get down there and see what we can do to help mop up." 

~oO0Oo~ 

"I can hardly wait for spring break!" Blair enthused over dinner that night. "That piggyback thing worked so well today. Just think of what we might be able to do if I could ride with you every day!" 

"Whoa. Slow down a bit, Darwin," Jim chuckled. "I'm looking forward to that, too, but I could use a little help in the meantime." 

"Anything, man. What do you need?" Blair asked, spearing a stalk of asparagus and nibbling on one end. 

"As much as I appreciate the earplugs," Jim began, "I'd be better off without them. Think you can help me get my hearing back under control?" 

"You bet!" Blair nodded. "How open are you to meditation techniques?" 

~oO0Oo~ 

"Come on up!" Blair called later that evening. He had finished setting things up in their bedroom to facilitate the meditation that he hoped would help Jim to control his spiking hearing. 

Jim climbed the stairs, uncertain what to expect. The sight that greeted his eyes sent bolts of desire straight to his groin. The darkened room was alight with a myriad of candles scattered about. The delicate scents teased his nose, relaxing him. Near the center of their bed, Blair sat cross-legged, the backs of his hands resting against his knees, his eyes closed and his head tipped back, letting a curtain of hair hang loosely down his back. 

He was naked, his skin glowing golden in the flickering light as Jim approached the bed. 

"Take your clothes off," Blair commanded softly, not opening his eyes. 

"I thought we were here to help with my hearing, not start an orgy," Jim complained. 

"Take your clothes off," Blair repeated. "Then join me here on the bed." He raised his head and opened his eyes. "Trust me, Jim. This is going to help you." 

Still suspicious of his lover's motives, Jim undressed and climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged facing Blair. 

"Good. Good. Now, close your eyes." The low, melodious voice commanded, and Jim obeyed. "Take a deep breath in through your nose, hold it for a count of five, and exhale through your mouth," the voice continued, softly guiding Jim through the techniques. "Say to yourself, 'I am relaxed.' 'I am relaxed'." 

"I am relaxed," Jim repeated along with his tutor. 

"Keep breathing," Blair instructed. "Deep in through the nose, slow release out through the mouth." 

In his relaxed state, Jim's senses expanded. He could feel the minute heat given off by each flickering candle flame, and the compelling warmth of the body in front of him. The sweet musk scent that the sentinel had always associated with the grad student permeated the air, masking the underlying scent of the wax from the candles. He could almost taste the molecules drifting across the gap between their bodies; taste the unique flavor of his guide. Sight was shielded behind closed eyes, but his hearing picked up the restful heartbeat across from him; the quiet breathing as Blair joined in the meditation ritual. 

He felt relaxed. Almost as though he was zoning on all his senses at the same time. How long he remained in that state, Jim would never know, but eventually the compelling voice pulled him back. "Breathe deep. Call your senses back," the voice commanded. "See the dials? Turn them low. You are in control. You." 

Jim opened his eyes to see Blair kneeling before him, practically in his lap. His eyes locked with those of his guide and he reached up to caress a flushed cheek. 

"Are you back?" Blair asked softly. Jim nodded, still mellow from his feast of the senses. "How's your hearing?" 

"Normal." Jim smiled and gathered the willing naked body to him. "And now I intend on properly thanking you." His mouth devoured the full lips offered to him as he pressed Blair back gently onto the bed. 

The candles flickered and silently winked out, one by one, as the lovers curled against each other in sated bliss. 

_Late March:_

Blair bounced down the hallway and out the door of Hargrove Hall. He stopped on the top step to breathe in the fresh spring air. He was excited by the prospect of spring break and was looking forward to the extended time to work with Jim on his senses in the field. Despite Jim's assurances that help with his senses had paid Blair's debt to him in full, the grad student always felt it wasn't quite enough. This was his chance to pay back a bit of Jim's generosity. 

He started down the stairs, headed for his Volvo in the parking lot. He was so occupied with his own thoughts, he didn't notice he was being followed until the smell of chloroform assaulted his nostrils. Memories of Gordon Bloomfield and his previous abduction flashed through his thoughts. _Not again!_ his mind screamed as his world went black. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Blair came to slowly, and with the dawning of consciousness came the desire to return to blessed oblivion. He was tightly bound, spread eagled, to a hard wooden surface by his wrists, forearms, neck, chest, hips, thighs and ankles. 

And he was naked. 

Fear slashed through him like the sharp edge of a sword, sending his heart rate and blood pressure climbing. Where was he? Why was he here? He felt helpless and vulnerable -- exposed. Two men stood to either side of the table, near his head, while another shadowy figure moved at the far end of the room. 

"It's about time you woke up." 

It took a few seconds for the voice to register in his drug-clouded brain, but when it did, it chilled Blair's soul, much as the air chilled his exposed skin. _Bloomfield._

"You're mighty sensitive to those knock-out drops," Bloomfield continued. "And I wanted to make sure you were wide awake before the fun began." He reached over to a small table next to the one on which Blair lay, and picked up three golden rings -- two small, one larger. "You didn't really think you could leave me, did you, Sweet Baby?" he crooned. "You were mine from the first night you danced in that bar." 

"I don't belong to _anybody_ , least of all _you_!" Blair spat, struggling to move. Heavy hands came to rest on each of his shoulders, emphasizing his helplessness. 

"You live with that gay cop. You whore yourself to him for room and board." Bloomfield stroked a hand down Blair's cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "But you're mine. Only mine. And you'll whore only for me." 

"Never!" The promise was hissed through clenched teeth as the unwanted touch dusted down his chest, stopping to rest gently over his navel. 

"I'm not giving you a choice, Baby. You _will_ cooperate, or suffer the consequences." 

"Then I'll suffer the consequences!" Blair's voice quavered slightly with false bravado. 

Bloomfield picked up a wickedly sharp hunting knife from the table, pressing the point against the tender skin of Blair's scrotum. "Oh, I don't think you'll be so anxious to do that, Baby." He increased the pressure until the point penetrated, causing blood to drip onto the table, and his captive to let out a yelp of pain. "If you want to keep your precious balls, you'll do everything I say." 

Blair's eyes still sparked with defiance, but he bit his lip and didn't reply. "You'll only speak when spoken to," Bloomfield continued, "and you'll cooperate willingly. You're an intelligent man, I think you understand the stakes here." He picked up one of the two smaller gold rings and began pinching and rolling Blair's left nipple. "Now there's a good boy," he said as the nipple hardened to a peak. He prodded at the piercing until the ring was through the nipple and fastened it closed. Blair hissed quietly, but managed not to comment. "Of course, we like symmetry," Bloomfield commented, picking up the second ring and another device. Blair's eyes widened in fear. Bloomfield began rolling his right nipple. 

Blair couldn't believe what was happening, yet he knew what was coming. Bloomfield loved power as much as he loved sex, and he was exerting that power over his bound and helpless captive. "No!" Blair gasped, squirming to try and put distance between himself and the madman, only to find the tip of the knife pricking at his balls again. 

"What did I tell you about keeping quiet?" Bloomfield picked up the large needle, positioning it at the side of the hard nipple. With a firm hand he pushed it through, causing an involuntary cry from his prisoner. Bloomfield ignored the sound, working the gold ring through the new piercing. Once the ring was fastened, he picked up a jeweler's soldering iron and soldered both rings closed. The action left burns on the already abused nipples, but the man didn't care. He brushed the peaks with the palm of his hand, making Blair squirm ineffectually in his bonds. 

"You know what we need here," Bloomfield mused, picking another item from the table, "are chains. Pretty, gold chains." He clipped the ends of the chain to the rings and tugged on it gently. "Yes, that's nice." He smiled at the tears streaming down Blair's face and picked up the longer chain that hung from the one suspended from Blair's nipples. "But we need someplace to connect this one," he said, his voice considering the possibilities. He reached out to pat Blair's cheek. "Now, now, Baby, I haven't given you anything to cry over yet. You might want to save those tears." 

Bloomfield moved further down the table. As Blair watched with wide, fear-filled eyes, his captor cradled his penis and began stroking and pulling on the organ. Blair squeezed his eyes shut. He did _not_ want to get hard for this man. If it was within his power to withhold his arousal, he would do so. Relentlessly the hand touched him. The other hand massaged his aching balls. The touches were gentle, loving, reminding Blair briefly of Jim's hands caressing him, and with time they broke through the barriers the young man had tried to put up. Blood pulsed in his groin, slowly filling his cock until the arousal was a painful ache. 

"You're so beautiful," Bloomfield crooned, fastening a cockring around the base of Blair's erection. "We don't want you losing this hard-on for a while. I have plans for you." He picked up the largest of the three gold rings and the piercing needle. " _Now_ is the time for tears, Baby." He centered the point of the needle on the side of the leaking glans. 

"No! God, no!" Blair screamed, unable to stay silent. He writhed in his bonds, unable to make any appreciable movement. His muscles quivered with the effort to pull away, to protect the most vulnerable part of his body, but he was bound ruthlessly to the table, helpless to stop the torture and humiliation. One of the two men standing beside him grasped his head, holding him still, increasing Blair's feeling of utter helplessness. 

"Quiet!" Bloomfield dropped the instrument and picked up the knife again, slicing at the delicate skin surrounding Blair's balls. "What did I tell you about speaking only when spoken to!" 

"No, please," Blair whimpered, unable to hold back the tears or the words. "Don't do this." 

"You are mine, and you are going to _know_ you are mine. You are _nothing_ without me, boy!" Bloomfield roared. The knife nicked at a testicle, eliciting a howl of pain from his captive. "Now, we are going to do this, whether you like it or not." He picked up the needle once more, centering it on the head of Blair's cock and pushing through to the other side. 

Blair's screams filled the small room, the pain so intense that his body spasmed causing him to void his bladder and lose his bowel control. His face burned with shame, as if being bound naked and at Bloomfield's mercy wasn't humiliation enough. 

Bloomfield ignored the cries, signaling to his men to come clean up the mess. The strap across his hips was removed so that he could be lifted enough to have his butt wiped, then was fastened tight once more. Another cloth was used to clean his genitals and inner thighs, removing the stench of urine. The soft touch on his newly-pierced cock drew another cry of anguish from his throat. 

Once he was cleaned, Bloomfield resumed his place. Picking up the large gold ring, he stroked the hard length of Blair's cock, eliciting whimpers of fear and pain from his prisoner. "We're just about done, Baby," he crooned, shoving the ring through the piercing and soldering it closed. The pain took Blair to the brink of blessed unconsciousness, but he was brought back by the acrid scent of smelling salts waved beneath his nose. With a groan, he was forced to watch as Bloomfield connected the chain fastened to his nipples to the new ring in his cock forming a "Y" of gold links across his chest and abdomen. 

Admiring his work, Bloomfield moved up the table again, picking a leather harness off the side table and laying it across Blair's chest. "Just one more little decoration, and then we'll retire." He began to undo the bonds holding Blair's arms and head. "You'll hold still and cooperate," he hissed into Blair's ear. "I'll happily fuck you whether or not you have balls." He continued to free Blair, enough to allow him to sit up so that he could fasten the leather harness around the young man's chest. Once that was finished, he released the leg bindings, leaving only the strap across his hips to hold Blair to the table. 

Blair struggled with the one strap still holding him bound, hoping against hope for a chance to escape. But the strap was bound too tightly, cutting into the flesh of his upper thighs, near his genitals. Bloomfield was heedless of his struggles, knowing his captive had no chance of escape. 

Blair's head swiveled to watch every move Bloomfield made. Back over to the table to remove one last item: a two-foot long gold chain with a rhinestone studded leather loop at one end. Curiosity and dread mingled in Blair's mind as his nightmare walked back to the end of the table and smiled at him. That smile held no humor, no warmth, none of the love that shone so clearly when Jim smiled at him. It was the malicious smile of a man who knew he was in complete control. Blair watched in horror as the end of the chain, the _leash_ , was clipped to the ring in his penis. 

Unfastening the final bond, Bloomfield tugged lightly on the leash, making Blair scoot his bare ass across the wooden table so that he could slide off the end to stand in front of his tormentor. The throbbing pain in his cock had weakened him. His knees buckled, and he nearly hit the floor. Bloomfield smiled once more, giving another jerk on the leash. Blair stumbled back to his feet, a gasp of pain involuntarily passing his lips. 

"Help him," Bloomfield ordered. 

The two silent guards flanked Blair, each taking an arm to hold the prisoner upright. Bloomfield turned toward the door and began walking. 

As the chain tugged relentlessly against his cock, Blair followed, trying to stay close enough to Bloomfield to relieve the ache the action was causing. 

The small cadre passed through the hallways and rooms of a luxurious cabin. Blair could see the forest of trees surrounding them, hiding the home from outside view. He had no idea how near or far he was from Cascade, but he knew, somehow, that Jim would find him, if only he could endure until then. 

They entered a spacious bedroom with a king-sized bed. The guards waited just outside the door as Bloomfield shoved Blair toward the bed, yanking on the cock leash to make certain he had the man's attention. "Get on the bed; on your hands and knees," he ordered. 

Blair crawled onto the mattress, facing the headboard. He swallowed hard as he felt the bed dip with the added weight of Bloomfield coming up behind him. This was it. No prostitute for cash tonight. This was to be a rape, pure and simple. 

Bloomfield dropped the leash and pulled down his pants. Lubing two fingers, he parted Blair's ass cheeks and probed his anus. He slid inside, none too gently, scissoring to quickly loosen the muscles. Blair was tight, and in his fear, no relaxation was truly possible. Bloomfield finally pulled out, grabbed both of Blair's hips, and shoved his cock into the young man's body. 

Throwing back his head in delight, Bloomfield began to slam into the heat. "Ah, yes! Just as I remembered. You have the sweetest ass, Baby, the tightest, sweetest ass I've ever had." 

Blair moaned in pain, dropping his forearms and head onto the mattress. Bloomfield kept a tight hold on his hips, keeping them elevated. "It was hell knowing you were with that cop," he panted. "Knowing that pig was getting the ass I deserved. _My_ ass, Baby! Mine!" With one last thrust, he came with a howl, spurting white-hot semen into Blair's body. 

Bloomfield pulled out, stroking Blair's hips. "You stay just like that, Pretty One," he ordered. "Don't you move until I say you can move." He settled in a comfortable chair next to the bed and began to stroke himself. 

Blair had no idea how much time had elapsed. It felt like an eternity, and like a millisecond. Bloomfield was behind him once more, hands holding his hips as his cock penetrated the stretched orifice again. 

The pain of entrance forced another cry from Blair's throat. "Like that, do you, Baby?" Bloomfield crooned, leaning down to pepper kisses on Blair's ass and spine. "I can make you feel real good. You'll never want to go back to that cop again." He pounded relentlessly as Blair's rectum spasmed around his cock, adding to his pleasure and his captive's pain. 

His second orgasm rocked through him, flattening Blair beneath him as Bloomfield breathed heavily. "That was one hell of a ride, boy," he panted. "Guess that's enough for one night." He rolled off the young man and stroked the abused cock. "I suppose it's time you had a little pleasure, too," he said, reaching a hand to unsnap the ring at the base of Blair's penis. 

Blair wanted nothing more than to curl in on himself, to protect his most private parts from the vileness of the touch. But Bloomfield would have none of that. With the point of the knife placed strategically near Blair's balls, he stroked the aching erection. Blair's eyes watered and a moan escaped his lips. He wanted no pleasure from this man, yet his climax was being pulled from him against his will. With a cry of anguished pain, he spurted hot come over Bloomfield's hand and his own chest. 

Bloomfield crawled up the bed and forced his fingers into the young man's mouth. "Taste yourself, Baby. Taste how you came for me." 

Blair gagged on the offering, repulsed by the fat man and his body's reaction to him. He spit the semen from his mouth in a vain attempt to rid himself of the salty tang. 

"Now, now, Baby, this is something you're going to have to get used to." Bloomfield patted the lax penis and picked up the cock leash. Tugging against the painful new piercing was the fastest way to get Blair back on his feet. He followed his rapist back through the rooms and hallways of the cabin to the room where he had first woken. 

In the corner was a cage. Bloomfield opened the door and shoved Blair inside. Once the door was locked, Bloomfield reached in to unfasten the leash. He left Blair with a tin cup of water and a small bowl of porridge. 

The containment was only high enough to allow Blair to squat or sit, but not stand. There also was not enough room to lie down. He leaned against the side of the enclosure and tried to block out the pain. Everything hurt, but the majority of the pain was centered on his ass and genitals. "Oh, God, Jim. Find me," he whispered as his eyes closed and exhaustion swept him into an uneasy sleep. " _Please_ find me...." 

~oO0Oo~ 

"He's been gone almost two days, Simon!" Jim argued, fear for Blair's safety paramount on his mind. 

"Look here, Jim," Simon said reasonably. "Two days is nothing to a kid like that. He's probably out partying it up with some of his university friends." 

"You said that the last time he disappeared, _Captain_ ," Jim said, emphasizing the title. "Blair's not the type to just go off and not tell me where he's going. I've checked everywhere I can think -- the university, the bar where he used to work... He isn't at any of his usual hangouts." 

"Didn't the university's spring break just start?" Simon questioned. "Maybe it has something to do with that. Could he have signed up for a week-long expedition to some backwater archeology dig or something?" 

"Not without telling me," Jim insisted. 

Simon sighed. "Oh, come on, Jim. Blair may be young, but he's a grown man. He doesn't have to report his every move to you!" 

"He lives with me, Simon," Jim said. "It's only polite. He's always told me when he was going out with friends before. Besides, if there was even the hint of an expedition, the kid would have been babbling like crazy. You know how he loves to talk." 

"Maybe something came up suddenly and he didn't get a chance?" the captain speculated. 

Their circular conversation was ended when the captain's phone rang. Banks nodded, looking grim. Hanging up the receiver, he nailed Jim with The Look. "Gordon Bloomfield is out of jail. I guess money can buy you out of just about anything." 

"When?" Jim demanded. 

Simon grimaced. "Three days ago." 

"Shit!" 

"Jim, be careful," Simon cautioned. "If Bloomfield's involved, we'll get him. Meanwhile, you have to tread carefully around the man." 

"If Bloomfield's involved, I'll castrate him with my bare hands!" Jim growled. "He put Blair in the hospital the last time. There's no telling what he might be doing now." He paced in front of the captain's desk. "I know men like him, Simon. He'll have revenge on his mind. Blair doesn't stand a chance if we don't find him." 

Simon shook his head, knowing his detective would move heaven and earth to locate the missing young man. "Just be discreet. If you find any kind of evidence, make sure it will stick." 

Jim nodded and left the private office, snagging his coat on the way out of the bullpen's doors. 

~oO0Oo~ 

The rattling of the cage door brought Blair to instant alertness. He pressed back against the bars, trying to stay out of the reach of the fat man who held him captive. He shivered as the leash was clipped to his cock and he was dragged out of his prison. He followed his tormentor back through the hallways and rooms to the main bedroom. Bloomfield pushed him toward the bed, and Blair stumbled into the mattress. 

"Lie down! On your back!" Bloomfield ordered. 

Blair crawled into the middle of the bed and laid as ordered. The omnipresent guards each took a wrist, binding it to the headboard, spreading Blair's arms wide. Bloomfield nodded his approval, and the two men stepped back. 

"See that?" Bloomfield pointed to the ceiling where a hook, on a track and a chain, hung above the bed. "I can use that little toy to hang you by your wrists, so that I can fuck your pretty ass all day. Or..." He pressed a button which lowered the hook on its chain until it hung mere inches from Blair's belly. Bloomfield took the decorative loop of leather on the end of the leash and hung it from the hook. Pushing another button, he raised the hook until the leash was taut. "...I can hang you by your dick." He stripped and crawled onto the bed, pawing and petting at Blair's chest and face. He leaned down, capturing the full lips in a brutal kiss that left them bruised and swollen. In one last act of defiance, Blair bit down on the man's lip. Bloomfield reared back with a roar of pain. "You fucking little bastard!" 

Blair's head rocked with the backhanded slaps to his face. With the determined look of a man who knew he was in charge, Bloomfield moved down between Blair's legs. "Now, you're going to put your knees up on my shoulders and let me have my morning fuck," he growled. 

Blair's face was flushed with rage and humiliation. Despite his fear, anger blossomed in his belly. All his young life, he had struggled for position and recognition. Finally, in finding Jim Ellison, his life had taken on meaning. He was important, needed... loved. He was treated with respect and gentleness. In an instant that had all been taken away from him, leaving him no more than a slave to one man's perverted sex drive. Unable to hold back any longer, he spat at the man who would rape him again. "No way, Bloomfield! There's no way I'm ever going to be your willing sex toy. I love Jim Ellison. Ellison! Not you! Never you!" 

Bloomfield shook with rage. He nodded to one of his men who raised the hook a few inches, pulling Blair's ass off the mattress and suspending him by the ring in his penis. 

The pain was incredible. An intense burning sensation shot from the head of his cock to his groin, traveling up his spine to his brain resulting in a cry that reverberated around the room. Bending his knees, he scrabbled to get his feet positioned under his ass, taking most of the pressure off his tortured genitals. His heart thudded in his chest, threatening to burst. Suddenly, Blair found himself praying that it would. Death seemed almost preferable to whatever degradations and torture this man had in store for him. A low, feral growl pierced through the fog of his pain and terror. 

"That's only the beginning, Baby." Bloomfield produced the hunting knife once more. "What did I tell you would happen if you didn't cooperate?" He fingered the vulnerable balls that hung freely against Blair's suspended ass. 

"Oh no. Please. God, no! Nononononono!" Blair screamed as the knife cut into his scrotal sac. He tried to pull back, away from the blade that threatened to castrate him. The attempt did nothing more than add to his misery. Strong hands gripped his ass, while another set held his feet. 

"Now, now," Bloomfield scolded. "You broke the rules, and now you must endure the punishment." The tip of the blade probed again at his exposed balls. Blair's cries of agony were deafening in the small room. 

Bloomfield smiled as he lifted a glistening testicle, holding it up for Blair to see. "One down, Baby. One to go." He leaned forward, dropping the severed organ into Blair's mouth and binding it with a silk scarf. 

The taste of blood and his own flesh on his tongue sickened Blair. He tossed his head back and forth in a vain effort to dislodge the vile object, gagging as muffled moans tried to escape from his throat. This couldn't be happening. He felt himself begin to spiral into the darkness of insanity -- his mind's way of protecting him from the horror that had become his reality. 

"Now, now," Bloomfield said, patting Blair's cheek almost tenderly. "Cooperation is the key, Baby Doll. You must stay quiet, and do as you are told." He turned to his men and barked an order. "Take care of this before he bleeds to death!" He waved a hand toward the bloody scrotum. "And make it fast. I want to fuck him!" 

The two men moved in. One supported Blair's hanging buttocks, taking the strain off his abused cock, while the other pulled some gauze and a bottle from a box on the table next to the bed. Wiping away the excess blood, he applied the chemical cauterizing agent. Blair nearly choked as he attempted to cry out. The burning pain was almost more than he could bear. 

Bloomfield waved his men off and moved back down between Blair's legs. "Put your knees on my shoulders, so I can fuck you," he commanded. 

Blair tried to lift his legs, but the pain in his groin prevented the movement. His legs were lifted for him, by Bloomfield's men, and placed over the man's shoulders. Bloomfield entered him roughly, with no preparation and little lube. Tears streamed down his cheeks as Bloomfield pounded hard into his aching body, hands caressing with a gentleness Blair knew the man didn't possess. A hand wrapped around his abused cock and squeezed hard as Bloomfield came with a roar of completion. His legs fell limply from his rapist's shoulders as Bloomfield backed off. He couldn't even find the strength to pull them under himself to relieve the pain in his penis. He hung suspended from the hook, semen dribbling out of his ass as Bloomfield sat back and admired him with satisfaction. 

"You're a good fuck, boy." He chuckled, and slapped Blair's butt, setting in motion a gentle sway that put more stress on the already abused genitals. 

Bloomfield got up and pulled on his clothes. As he dressed, his men moved in to clean and tend the captive. Blair was lowered back to the mattress, relieving the strain on his new piercing. While one man untied his wrists, the other tended his genitals, washing the area with an antiseptic solution which stung his abused flesh. 

Too weak to struggle, Blair lay still while his hands were bound once again, this time in padded handcuffs. 

Bloomfield hovered over the bed. "I'm not done with you yet, Sweetheart," he whispered into Blair's ear. "Now's the time for you to become my property." He motioned to his men to lift the unresisting body from the bed. 

The hook was moved along its track until it hovered over the floor beside the bed. The men lifted Blair, hanging him by the bonds on his wrists. Drained of strength, Blair didn't struggle as a third man entered the room, carrying with him tattooing instruments. He watched as the man circled around him, finally setting up his tools on a table behind his back. 

Bloomfield walked over and removed the leather harness that had decorated Blair's chest for two days. He stroked his hand down the smooth back as he spoke to the artist, coming to rest on a shapely buttock. "I want it to cover his right ass cheek," Bloomfield instructed. "And make sure my name is larger than the rest. I don't want _anybody_ mistaking who this piece of ass belongs to." 

The man nodded. "As you wish, Mr. Bloomfield." He picked up his instruments and began to work. 

Blair twitched as the tattooing needle first pricked his skin. Bloomfield jerked on the cock leash and growled at him to be still. "Behave yourself, Baby, or you know what the consequences will be. I'll be back this afternoon to admire my new property and break it in with a proper fuck." He turned and left the room, Blair's eyes boring holes into his back as he walked out the door. 

The pain was cruel, but endurable, nothing like the throbbing ache in his genitals, which threatened to consume his mind. Blair had considered getting a tattoo in the past. Something small and tasteful, perhaps on his shoulder or butt cheek, or possibly a "bracelet" or "anklet" of Celtic knots. The permanence of the decoration had always been his downfall. He tried to picture himself as an old man, decorated with hippie tattoos from his youth, and the thought always stopped him. Now, he was being tattooed against his will, in a manner that would brand him Bloomfield's property forever. _God, Jim. Please find me soon,_ he prayed. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Bloomfield returned in the late afternoon, carrying a plate of meats and vegetables. Blair hung from the ceiling, all fight gone from him, his butt throbbing with the ache of the new tattoo, his groin aching from the loss of his testicle, and the organ still bound in his mouth. 

Bloomfield set the plate on the bed and circled his prisoner. "Nice. Very nice," he murmured as his fingers traced the swollen and bruised flesh of Blair ass, following the contours of the branding. "Property of" was emblazoned across the upper cheek, just below the kidney area. "Gordon" and "Bloomfield" followed in larger letters, wrapping around the fleshiest part of the buttock. 

"For being such a good boy, I have a little treat for you," Bloomfield said. He reached up and untied the silk gag, allowing Blair to spit the testicle onto the floor. He held a bottle of water to Blair's lips. "Drink. Clean out your mouth." 

Blair welcomed the water, sloshing it around his mouth, then spitting it out in an attempt to rid himself of the disgusting taste and texture the reproductive organ had left in his mouth. His stomach rebelled at the smell of the food Bloomfield had brought for his nourishment, but his body ached for the cool refreshment of the liquid. "More," he croaked. "Please." 

Bloomfield raised the bottle to Blair's lips, pouring a portion down the parched throat. Blair began to swallow the offering, only to have it abruptly pulled back. "Not too fast. We don't want you getting sick. Here," he lifted a bite-size piece of meat to Blair's lips, shoving the morsel between his teeth. "Eat." 

Blair chewed carefully and swallowed, unsure if the food would stay down. Another bite was offered, and he continued to eat, grateful for the strength the food would give him. He was mildly nauseous, but to his surprise the food seemed to be staying put. Bloomfield offered him another drink. When he'd had a couple sips, the water was withdrawn again. 

"Enough for now." Blair heard the words, as well as the sound of a zipper being pulled. Bloomfield positioned himself behind Blair and steadied his hips with a strong grip over the new tattoo. An erect cock probed his ass, seeking entrance. With a brutal shove, which Blair had come to expect, he was entered and battered until Bloomfield's orgasm filled him. 

The feel of the hot come flooding his insides was more than Blair's stomach could handle. Dangling from the hook, with Bloomfield's softening cock still filling him, Blair dropped his head and vomited. The contents of his stomach dribbled down his chest and abdomen, to drip onto his genitals and down his bare legs. 

Bloomfield lowered the hook and released Blair from its grasp. Leaving the man bound in the padded handcuffs, he picked up the cock leash and began to pull. Obediently, Blair followed back to his cell, where he was pushed inside and locked in with the stench of his own vomit to exacerbate the pain in his back and genitals. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Time had no meaning. In his pain and misery, Blair was unaware of the passage of days. Hunger had become nothing but a dull ache in his stomach. He was given water occasionally, but less than his body demanded. He couldn't remember the last time he'd urinated. A burning fire consumed his balls, spreading its heat to the piercing that throbbed in his cock-head. He spent his days in a stupor, only half conscious. Waiting. Waiting for the next time his tormentor would choose to rape him. 

The cage door rattled, raising Blair's consciousness up a notch. Rough hands grabbed at him, pulling him from his cramped prison. He stumbled as he was hauled onto his feet. The cock-leash was attached to the gold ring and he was dragged through the cabin to a large, pristine bathroom. 

A white porcelain tub gleamed at the far end of the room. Blair was lifted and placed into the warm water. The momentary bliss from feeling the water caress and support him was broken when a hand on his forehead shoved him under the glassy surface. Blair barely had time to take a breath before he felt himself being held down. His arms and legs began to flail helplessly. He gulped in a huge lung-full of air as he resurfaced moments later. 

One set of hands began rubbing shampoo into his long hair, while another pair roughly scrubbed at his tender skin. Blair moaned at the pain the washing caused his new wounds, but was too weak to fight the hands that held him down. Clean water was dumped repeatedly over his head to rinse out the shampoo. Once clean, he was lifted from the tub and taken over to a cold, stainless-steel table that sat to the side, against one wall. 

The hands laid him on the hard surface, rolling him onto his side, with his back facing out to the center of the room. Fingers spread his ass cheeks while another set of hands probed at his anus. The tight muscle finally gave way, admitting a length of flexible tubing. As the warm water began to flood his colon, Blair's fevered brain remembered a more pleasant time. 

* * *

"Just relax." Jim's voice caressed him. Blair lay on their bed, thick, soft towels cradling his hips. This wasn't his first enema -- he'd had them at Sonny's CockTail Lounge -- but it was the first time he'd looked forward to the intimate washing. His new lover was gentle, aware of Blair's virginity in many aspects of gay sex. Jim insisted on the ritual cleansing before he would take Blair. The warm water flooded his body, making him feel full, but not to the point of discomfort. Jim's voice droned softly above him, one hand stroking his body; down silken hair to the hard twin peaks of his nipples, to finally touch his erect and weeping cock. Only Jim could make him hard during an enema, Blair thought with a small grin. 

The building pressure finally stopped and the soft tubing was removed. Blair felt the rush of water leave his body. Jim mopped up the mess with the towels, then wiped Blair dry. The young man turned over to smile up at man he loved. Soft lips touched his in a kiss of promise.... 

* * *

The water rushed in, filling him. The pleasant dream shattered as the feeling of fullness built to an uncomfortable level. "No-no-no-nonononono," he moaned, hands grasping at his abdomen, which had started to cramp. A hand landed on his forehead, stilling the tossing and turning. Another hand pulled his arm away from his cramping stomach. 

"Shut up!" a voice shouted at him. 

Blair's whole body spasmed with the pain, and he cried out again. "No! Oh God, please stop!" 

The relentless filling continued a bit longer, then the tubing was removed. Blair sobbed with pain and relief as the water flooded out of his body, leaving him with only a dull ache. 

"He doesn't look too good," another voice said. A hand reached out to caress the ravaged scrotum. Blair cried out at the sudden rush of pain that shot through his balls and penis, straight up his spine to his brain. "Looks infected." 

"Mr. Bloomfield isn't going to be happy that his little fuck-toy is sick," the first voice replied. "We'd better get him to the bedroom, anyway. Orders are orders, after all." 

Blair felt the snap of the cock-leash being attached, and then the pull that couldn't be resisted. Despite the pain, he knew he had to get up, to stand, to walk, or suffer the agonizing tugs to his abused penis. He slipped off the table, only to have his legs buckle beneath him. Curses filled the room, then he felt himself being lifted and flung over a shoulder in a fireman's carry. 

He bounced along on the shoulder of one of Bloomfield's men, pain the only thing his mind registered. He was laid on the soft bed and left to shiver through the fever that raged in his body. Voices came faintly to his ears. 

"We did as you asked, Mr. Bloomfield. He's all clean, inside and out," one voice said. 

"But he's sick," the second voice chimed in. "Looks like he has an infection in his balls. Maybe you ought to consider calling the doctor." 

Bloomfield's voice was raised in outrage. "Four days! I haven't fucked his tight little ass in four days! If he's sick, we'll deal with it, but _after_ I've had my fuck." 

"Yes, sir, Mr. Bloomfield," the first voice answered. Footsteps retreated and there was the sound of a door closing. 

The bed dipped, and fat hands began caressing the hot skin. "Jim?" Blair's fevered brain mistook the gentle touch for that of his lover. He arched into the sensation as chubby fingers dusted over the rosy peaks of his nipples. Moist lips touched his jaw, raining staccato kisses down his neck and shoulder. Blair moaned, grinding his hips against the body spooned against him. 

"It's about time, Baby," a rough voice whispered in his ear. "I knew there'd come a day when you'd want me." The blunt head of Bloomfield's large cock nudged at the opening to Blair's body. Already stretched by the earlier enema, Blair's anus opened to the pressure and the lubed organ filled him to capacity. Daydreams shattered as Bloomfield began pounding into the weak and yielding orifice. 

Blair moaned, too weak from the infection and lack of food to fight against the invasion of his body. His genitals still throbbed to the rhythm of his heart and burned like the fires of Hades. He didn't even notice when Bloomfield had finished with him until he was rolled onto his back. 

"I have a present for you," the rough voice crooned in his ear. Bloomfield climbed off the bed, zipping up his pants, and walked over to where his men stood guard at the door. He was handed a package that he took back to the bed. 

Bright colored paper and a luminous red bow decorated the oblong gift that was handed to Blair. "Open it," Bloomfield's voice commanded. 

Blair's fingers refused to work, too clumsy from confinement and lack of food and water to coordinate the task. Eventually, he was able to tear into the paper, freeing the object wrapped inside. His shock at seeing the gift paralyzed him and he dropped it onto his chest. 

Bloomfield picked it up, turning it around in his hand for Blair to see. "Isn't it beautiful?" he asked. "I had it made from a mold of my own penis." 

The dildo was the ugliest thing Blair had ever seen. Approximately nine inches long and nearly two inches in diameter, the soft flesh-colored plastic matched every curve, every artery of the cock that used him daily. He flinched away as Bloomfield ran the head of the artificial penis down his cheek. 

"I don't want you to forget who owns you," Bloomfield taunted. "Besides, if you're stretched, there's less need for lubrication, and we can fuck more frequently. How about we try it on for size?" He motioned for his men to approach and assist him. 

Blair made a meager attempt to struggle against the hands turning him onto his side, but the fever had sapped his strength, and he could do little more than moan and cry out at yet another humiliation visited upon his abused body. 

He felt the coolness of the lubricating gel touch his anus moments before the relentless pressure of the dildo forced its way into his body. The foreign object filled him to the point of discomfort. Unlike the reality from which it was molded, the dildo did not move, which added to the young man's misery. Once it was in, he was rolled onto his back. 

"Nice. Very nice." Bloomfield's voice approved of the sight before him. The dildo was fully inserted, up to its artificial balls, in Blair's ass. The captive's ruptured scrotum and inflamed penis draped down over the object, all but covering it. Bloomfield reached out to stroke the damaged organs. 

Pain shot through his groin and vibrated up his ass as his tormentor's hand touched him. Blair cried out, and tried to move. Rolling to his side, claw-like hands grasped at the sheets, pulling him toward the edge of the bed. The only thought in his fevered mind was to escape... escape the pain, escape the humiliation. 

Rough hands dragged him back and tied him spread-eagle to the bedposts. Voices echoed nearby, but Blair could no longer make out what they were saying. 

"Get a doctor here TODAY!" Bloomfield roared at his men. "I'll not have my new sex pet die on me before I've even had a week to fuck him!" 

"Yes, sir, Mr. Bloomfield. Right away." 

The voices faded, and the sound of a door closing came faintly to Blair's ears. With relief, he was finally allowed to slip into the warm darkness of unconsciousness. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim paced impatiently in Simon's office, unable to sit still. "It's been nearly a week, sir," he said. 

"Have you found any solid evidence that Bloomfield is involved?" the captain asked. 

Jim shook his head. "The records show he got on a flight to Paris the day he was released from jail. Supposedly it was some sort of business trip. His return ticket hasn't been used." 

"Then he's still in Europe," Simon surmised. "We'll have to start looking elsewhere." 

"No, sir!" Jim snapped. "That man is capable of getting a private flight back. Or he never left in the first place. It could have been a double that got on that plane to Paris." 

Simon sighed and laid down his cigar, picking up his coffee mug and taking a large swallow. "Coffee?" Jim shook his head. "Look, Jim. I understand where you're coming from. I even agree with you that Bloomfield is our best possible suspect. But we have nothing on which to base an investigation except hunches." 

"Then let me check out the hunches," Jim pleaded. "I've already checked out the local S&M shops, put the word out on the street to my snitches. So far, I've come up dry." Simon snorted, but Jim plowed on. "I'm planning on spending my evenings in the dives Bloomfield likes to frequent." 

"Like the CockTail Lounge?" Simon asked. 

"Among several others, yeah," Jim acknowledged. "I want to find out if anyone's seen him around recently." 

"You be careful. Watch your back," Simon warned. "And if you find _anything_ , you let me know immediately." 

"Yes, sir." 

~oO0Oo~ 

Dr. Irvin Palmer, Gordon Bloomfield's personal physician for the past twenty years, shook his head. "You really did a number on that young man, Gordon. What were you trying to do? Kill him?" He had set up an IV pole next to the bed, running lines into Blair's veins to hydrate and nourish him. A steady drip of antibiotics worked to bring down the raging fever brought on by the infection of his genitals. 

"Aw, Irvin, you know how it is," Gordon explained. "Play got a little rough, got a little out of hand. I didn't realize he was hurt until he started running a fever." 

"He's missing a testicle," the doctor pointed out. 

"An accident," Bloomfield convincingly lied. "The boy likes his sex rough. We were playing a little game of cops and robbers, and the knife slipped." 

"Mmmm...." Palmer made a noncommittal noise, then turned to his patient. "I'm going to have to insert a catheter line. He's severely dehydrated. If we can't get his kidneys to drain, there could be complications." He got the flexible tubing from his bag and lifted the inflamed penis. "You know, you should have taken better care of the piercing, too. Why in God's name would anyone want a ring through the head of his cock?" He had some trouble inserting the line, getting past the injury caused by the piercing. Shaking his head, the doctor looked up. "I knew you had some kinky ideas about sex, Gordon, but isn't this going a little bit far?" 

"What do you consider 'going a little bit far' between consenting adults?" Bloomfield bristled under the doctor's disapproval. "He may look like a boy, but he's of legal age." 

"What two consenting adults do is their own business," the doctor admitted. "Providing _both_ are truly consenting. Personally, I think this sexual slavery thing is sick. This time you may have gone too far." He finished setting the catheter and watched the meager drainage of urine. 

Blair was only vaguely aware of his surroundings. Needles had been poked into his arm, but he didn't mind. Caring hands had inspected every inch of his body, but now concentrated on his exposed and vulnerable genitals. His caregiver was inserting something into his penis. _Catheter,_ his foggy mind supplied. He jerked, and tried weakly to pull away when the catheter encountered a blockage. A moan slipped past his lips, but he couldn't escape the inevitable intrusion of another object into his body. 

Dr. Palmer shook his head. "We've got to get some fluids into this young man, or his kidneys are going to shut down." 

"You've got IVs going already," Bloomfield pointed out. "Isn't that enough?" 

"No." The flat statement took Gordon by surprise. "Do you have something we could use as a second IV pole?" Palmer asked. "A coat rack, perhaps? I'd like to start another line in his other arm." 

Bloomfield's men fetched the requested items, and Palmer set up the second IV. " _Now_ I can tend to this young man's 'accident'." Palmer spoke quietly to his patient, unsure if the man could understand his words. "I'm going to inject an anesthetic near your scrotum. All you'll feel is a little prick. It's nothing to get upset about. I need to make a few stitches to close the wound, so that you'll recover more quickly." With that, he moved the lax penis aside to expose the injured sac. He injected the anesthetic, noting Blair's slight tensing as he did. After waiting a few minutes, he probed the area with his fingers. Getting no response from his patient, he quickly set a few stitches to close the injury. 

"There. Done." Palmer looked up at his friend. "What you do in the privacy of your own home is your business, Gordon. I just don't want to receive any more calls like this one. Another couple days and that young man would have been dead. I'm going to stay and enjoy your hospitality for the rest of the afternoon. I want to keep an eye on Blair to make sure he's recovering." 

"How long until I can fuck the kid again?" Gordon asked. 

Palmer shook his head. "You're pulling my leg, right? That young man isn't getting out of bed for at least five days to a week, maybe longer. And don't think I didn't notice the dildo you have shoved up his ass. What's that about?" 

"The kid adores me, Irvin," Bloomfield schmoozed. "He's an insatiable little slut. He _begged_ me to make a dildo from a mold of my penis, so that he wouldn't have to go without." He crossed his arms and looked smugly at the small figure lying on the bed. "He likes it like that." 

The doctor continued to shake his head. "You sure know how to find the kinky ones, Gordon," he sighed. "All right, we'll let him rest. I'll check on him in a few hours." 

_Two days later:_

"Help me." 

"What?" Dr. Irvin Palmer turned to look at his patient. It was the first time since his initial exam that the young man had spoken. He went about changing the IV bags and checking Blair's urine output. 

"Tell Jim I'm here," came the soft voice a second time. 

Palmer stopped what he was doing and leaned over the bed so that he could hear the whispered words. "Who is this Jim?" he asked. 

"Detective James Ellison, Cascade PD Major Crime," came the response. 

The doctor blinked in surprise. The man Blair was asking about had won the "Cop of the Year" award two years running. It had been in all the papers. Why would a willing participant in Bloomfield's kinky sex games be asking for his help? "Blair? Listen to me, son," he said, leaning over the young man so that Blair could see his face. "Are you here against your will?" 

"Bloomfield kidnapped me," Blair whispered. "Hurt and raped me." 

The doctor laid a gentle hand against Blair's cheek in a comforting gesture. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind the young man's ear before speaking again. "I'll do what I can," he promised. 

A silent shadow detached itself from the wall outside the bedroom door, and headed down the hall. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Bloomfield looked up at the knock on his door. "Come." The door opened slowly to admit Giles Markham, one of his guards. "Oh, Giles. Good to see you. Any news?" 

The man came to stand in front of his boss' desk, hands behind his back in a military parade rest stance. "Blair has regained consciousness and is talking," he reported. 

"Could you hear what he was saying?" 

"No, but the doctor's reactions indicate that he may have asked for help." 

Bloomfield rose from behind his desk and stepped out into the room. "Thank you, Giles. You've been most helpful." He patted the man on the shoulder on his way past. He walked out the door and down the hallway toward the bedroom. Flinging open the door, he stepped into the room to find the doctor sitting on the bed, offering gestures of comfort to the young man lying there. 

"Good morning, Irvin," he greeted his friend. "And how is our patient today?" 

"He's improving," the doctor admitted. "He was conscious for a few minutes." 

"Good! Good!" Bloomfield enthused. "Did he say anything?" 

The questions startled Palmer, taking him by surprise. "Ah, no, Gordon. No, he didn't say a thing," he lied. 

"Oh, too bad. I thought he might have been asking for me," Bloomfield pouted. "I know he must want me as badly as I want him." He walked over to the bed and pulled the doctor up. 

"Well, if he's doing well enough to be awake, I guess we don't need you anymore. You can just pack up your equipment and head back to town," Bloomfield ordered. "Thank you so much for your help." 

"Gordon, you don't understand," Palmer insisted. "Blair is still _very_ ill. His urine output is still low, and while the infection is responding to the medication, he still has eight days left to be on it." 

Taking the doctor by the arm, Bloomfield forcefully dragged him toward the door. "Then get me a bottle of pills to give him. It's time you're on your way. I'll have one of my men bring your equipment down to the clinic." He shoved Palmer out into the hall and closed the door, locking it. 

Palmer banged a fist against the unyielding wood. "Gordon! Good God, man, leave the kid alone. He's ill!" 

Bloomfield smiled as he heard a mild scuffle in the hallway, and the doctor was escorted out. He began to circle the bed, pulling out the IV needles one by one and pushing the poles out of the way. He yanked at the catheter, finally getting a rise out of the man in the bed. 

Blair was awake, but lay still with his eyes closed. Fear thrummed in his chest as he listened to Bloomfield expel the doctor from the room. _Bring help. Oh God, please bring help,_ he prayed. 

He tensed as the needles were pulled from his veins, feeling bereft of the healing support they represented, and a return to the hell he had been living the past week. When the catheter was pulled out, Blair felt a brief instance of intense pain as his damaged urinary tract protested. The bed dipped, and a fat hand began a gentle patting of his face. 

"Wake up, Baby," the hated voice whispered into his ear. "It's time to play." 

Blair was rolled onto his side and the dildo pulled from his ass, only to be quickly replaced by the real thing, pounding mercilessly into his exhausted body. 

"Oh, Baby. I've missed you; missed your sweet ass." Bloomfield reached around to stroke Blair's cock to life. 

Still too weak to fight off his body's natural responses, Blair felt himself swell under his master's hand. A moan, ending in a choked sob, escaped his throat as his ravaged scrotum contracted prior to his orgasm. The release was painful and brought no relief from the pounding in his ass. 

Bloomfield finally came in an explosive climax. He pulled out and slapped Blair across his tattooed buttock. "That was a good ride, Baby Doll." He turned to his men. "Clean him up and give him his medicine. Don't forget to shove the dildo back up his ass." He climbed off the bed and ambled off to take a shower, leaving Blair to the not-so-tender mercies of his guardians. 

Blair whimpered as he felt the rough hands prepare him for another enema. He was washed thoroughly, his cries of discomfort completely ignored as the men followed their orders. A pill was shoved into his mouth, and a gulp of water washed it down. 

Blair felt his knees being bent, and his feet spread, exposing his abused center. The well-lubed dildo probed at his aching hole, forcing entrance. Tears streamed down his eyes and a low drawn-out moan escaped his lips as the object was shoved deep within his body, then left there. The hands holding his knees released him and he dropped to his side, an aching mass of abused flesh. 

Curling into the fetal position the best he could with his hands bound over his head, Blair closed his eyes. Sleep eluded him as pain continued to pound in his genitals and ass. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he began praying for the oblivion of death, no longer wondering if Jim would ever find him. 

~oO0Oo~ 

The call came in to Major Crime. Rhonda buzzed Jim Ellison's desk. "Call for you on line two, Jim," she informed him. 

Ellison nodded his thanks and pushed the button for the indicated line. "Ellison," he barked into the receiver. 

_"Detective James Ellison?"_ the voice on the other end of the line inquired. 

"Speaking," Jim snapped, his nerves frayed over his missing partner. 

_"I have some information on a young man named Blair Sandburg,"_ the caller began. 

"Blair? You know something about Blair? Where is he?" Jim interrupted loudly, garnering the attention of everyone in the bullpen. A small crowd began to gather around his desk, anxious for any information on the missing observer. 

_"He's a guest of Gordon Bloomfield's,"_ the voice continued. 

"Guest, hell!" Jim exploded. "Who is this? How do you know about Blair?" 

_"Could we meet somewhere, Detective? Preferably somewhere public,"_ the caller requested. 

"Mr. Tube Steak. Holden Park," Jim suggested, anxious to meet his informant. 

_"Good. See you there in an hour."_ The phone went dead before Jim even wondered how he'd know his informant when they met. 

"Need company?" Joel Taggert asked, concerned for the young man who had quickly become a close friend. 

"Thanks, Joel, but I think I'd better handle this one alone. Don't want to go scaring off the source, you know," Jim said. 

Joel nodded. "Backup's just a few minutes away," he reminded the detective. 

Jim acknowledged the support with a nod and got up to go stand in front of his captain's office door. 

"Come," the gruff voice answered after the first knock. "Any news on Sandburg yet?" Simon asked before Jim had a chance to close the door. 

"As a matter of fact," Jim said, "yeah. I just got a call from an anonymous informant that says he knows something about Blair. I'm meeting him in an hour at the Mr. Tube Steak down near Holden Park." 

"You be careful. Whoever kidnapped Blair is dangerous," Banks warned. 

Jim nodded. "Don't worry, sir. I'll be careful." 

~oO0Oo~ 

The warm spring sun shone down on the hot dog vendor. Jim got one with everything, and approached a nearby bench to watch for his informant. Within minutes, a man appeared wearing a white doctor's smock and sporting a major shiner on his left eye. He approached the vendor and ordered a hot dog. Looking around furtively, he spotted Jim on the nearby bench. 

Approaching cautiously, he asked, "Detective Ellison?" Jim nodded curtly. "My name is Irvin Palmer. I'm Mr. Bloomfield's personal physician." 

"Nice to meet you," Jim greeted, shaking the man's hand. "You have information on Blair Sandburg?" Nothing like getting right to the point. Besides, who knew what that pervert was doing to the young man? The sooner they could locate Blair, the better off he'd be. 

"Yes. I treated Mr. Sandburg for injuries at Mr. Bloomfield's cabin." 

" _Injuries_?" Jim exploded. "What kind of injuries?" 

"I'm sorry," the doctor apologized. "I'm not at liberty to discuss the details...." 

"Tell me!" Jim's voice threatened. 

"Mr. Bloomfield told me it was consensual," Palmer tried to explain. "But it looked like some wicked bondage and dominance play -- sex slave and master." Jim was bristling, barely able to contain his worry and anger as the doctor continued. "Despite what Gordon told me, I think the kid is there against his will." 

"You bet your sweet ass he is!" Jim agreed, getting in the man's face. "Where's this cabin?" 

"I-I d-don't quite know," Palmer admitted. "I was blindfolded and flown in." 

"Flown in?" Jim questioned. "By plane?" 

"Helicopter," Palmer answered. 

"What airport?" Jim continued to badger. "How long was the flight?" 

"Cascade International, where the p-private planes are kept," the doctor stuttered. "I-I don't know how long, exactly. About a half hour, I'd guess. It seemed forever with the blindfold on." 

"Did you overhear anything before or during the flight that might be useful?" Jim wondered. "Anything, no matter how trivial. You never know what might be the key to finding where they are hiding." 

"No," Palmer answered slowly. "I don't remember hearing much of anything. The chopper was so noisy. There was very little conversation. I'm very sorry." 

Jim took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. This man had seen Blair, cared for him. He was the young man's ticket to rescue. "Besides Blair and Bloomfield, how many others did you see at the cabin?" 

Palmer looked thoughtful. "There were always at least two men guarding the door," he said. "And I believe I saw at least one or two more. There weren't a lot of people there." 

"Were they armed?" 

The doctor shook his head. "Not that I could see. The way they had that poor man bound, there wasn't much need of weapons. He was too weak to fight or run." 

"When did you last see Blair?" 

"Three days ago," the doctor answered. "Mr. Bloomfield seemed to take exception when I questioned his motives in having the young man there," he explained. "That's how I got this." He pointed to his black eye. "It took me a few days to work up the courage to contact you." 

"How did you know to contact _me_?" Jim continued to interrogate. 

"Blair -- Mr. Sandburg -- asked me to." 

"Begged was more like it, I'll bet," Jim accused the doctor. "What sort of condition was Blair in when you were 'escorted' out?" 

The doctor sighed. "He wasn't well. He'd been running a high fever. I had him on antibiotics, but he was a long way from healthy. He was very dehydrated, too. It's amazing he was as coherent as he seemed to be." Palmer hung his head. "I wish I could be of more help, but I have no idea where the cabin is located, except that it's out in the woods, somewhere in the mountains, I would think." 

Jim stood, taking the doctor by an elbow. "I'd like for you to come with me." 

"What for? I didn't do anything wrong!" Palmer squirmed in the strong grip. 

"It's for your own safety, Doctor," Jim explained. "Bloomfield is a powerful man. You have become a liability to him. I wouldn't put it past him to have you followed. I'm taking you into protective custody." 

"But, but..." the doctor sputtered. 

"I'm very grateful for the information you gave me," Jim admitted, steering the man toward his truck. "But when Bloomfield comes to trial, we're going to need an eyewitness. I can't risk you getting killed in the meantime." He climbed into the driver's seat and headed the truck back to the police department. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Days passed. Blair had no way of knowing how many. He only knew that as the pain in his genitals eased and his clarity of mind began to return, the rapes increased in frequency. And always, always, the dildo was shoved back inside, until he was numb to the sensation of pain the object used to cause. 

He woke in his cramped cage, disturbed by the sounds of laughter and loud conversation that appeared to be headed his way. The door opened, spilling light into the dim room. Bloomfield stood silhouetted in the doorway, leash in hand. As he approached Blair's prison, the young man began to shake. The look on his tormentor's face bode ill for the day. 

The cage door opened and rough hands pulled him out, holding him still while the leash was attached. With a slight tug on the chain, Bloomfield began to walk. "I've got a treat for you today," the fat man informed him as he led his captive through the hallways to the large front room of the cabin. "A chance for a little fresh air, and a change of scenery." 

Blair balked as the front door was opened and Bloomfield stepped onto the porch. "No," he whispered, afraid of being heard, but more afraid of going outside naked, exposed to anyone's view, led by a leash connected to his cock. 

"What did you say?" Bloomfield asked, turning around to look at his play-toy in amazement. Blair looked back, eyes wide with fear. "Did I say you could speak?" Blair shook head, but still refused to step out onto the porch. He tugged harder on the leash. "Come on then. Get a move on!" 

"No," Blair said, a bit louder this time. 

Bloomfield whirled on his captive, wrapping a fist around the flaccid cock and pulling hard. "I'm in a generous mood at the moment," Bloomfield growled. "If I were you, I wouldn't test my limits. Get your ass out here!" 

Blair stumbled onto the porch, whimpering at the abuse of his cock. The gleaming hunting knife sparkled in the morning sun where it was tucked into Bloomfield's belt. Memories of what that knife could do propelled him down the stairs and onto the dirt path that led deep into trees surrounding the cabin. 

They walked for what Blair estimated must have been well over a mile, closer to two, before breaking into a small clearing. It was obvious to the young man that Bloomfield had planned this particular rendezvous. A blanket was spread on the ground with a picnic basket and a portable CD player. Next to the blanket was a sleeping bag, zipped open, ready. The sight made him shiver with unpleasant anticipation. 

"I thought we'd never get here," Bloomfield panted, tired from the long walk. He unzipped his pants and shoved Blair up against the nearest tree. "But it'll be worth it. You'll see," he promised, removing the dildo and tossing it on the ground. 

Blair let out a yelp of pain as his bare flesh encountered the rough tree bark. Bloomfield's demanding entrance to his body shoved his still-healing genitals into the unyielding wood, bringing tears to his eyes. He endured the rape, wondering what else this 'lovely day in the woods' had in store for him. 

Sated for the moment, Bloomfield guided Blair to the blanket, and the promise of food. The anthropologist had had so little to eat or drink during his time of captivity, it was a wonder he was still on his feet. He settled beside the businessman, hoping for a morsel to strengthen him for what was to come. 

Bloomfield opened the basket and withdrew two wine glasses. He filled both, handing one to Blair. "Drink up, Baby," he commanded, clinking his glass against Blair's in a pseudo-toast. 

Blair sipped the sweet liquid, feeling the alcohol go straight to his head thanks to an empty stomach. He tried to put the glass down, but Bloomfield took hold of the bottom of the goblet and tipped it up, forcing him to finish the contents. His head swam and he felt nauseous. He watched with mixed interest as Bloomfield pawed through the contents of the basket, finally producing a sandwich. Handing half to Blair, he watched as the young man greedily stuffed it down despite the aching feeling in his gut. 

"More?" Blair asked, feeling some better now that food was in his stomach to counter the alcohol. "Please?" 

"Maybe later," Bloomfield answered, seemingly not upset that Blair had spoken out of turn. "First, we need some entertainment." He turned on the CD player, then poked at the young man. "Dance for me. Dance like you did in the bar." 

Blair's hesitation was brief. One glance at the hunting knife tucked in Bloomfield's belt was enough to get him on his feet. He moved out into the grassy meadow and closed his eyes. Letting the music wash over him, he swayed with the beat, giving himself over to the melody -- shutting out thoughts of the leering eyes watching his every move. Three songs later, the music stopped. He opened his eyes to see Bloomfield on the spread sleeping bag. 

"Very nice, Baby Doll. Now come here and get your reward." Bloomfield's smile was predatory. 

Blair moved forward slowly, sure that the reward was Bloomfield's, and not his. He knelt on the sleeping bag, waiting for his orders. 

"On all fours, Baby," Bloomfield commanded. 

Blair dropped to hands and knees, while his insatiable captor fucked him like some animal. The grunts and groans from behind him were ample evidence of Bloomfield's sick sexual fetish. When the fat fingers engulfed his cock, a startled sob escaped his lips. He felt himself harden under the unwanted touch, and he prayed that this time Bloomfield would just get it over with and leave him alone for a while. But such was not to be. 

Bloomfield came in a hot rush of semen, pounding Blair's backside hard enough to leave bruises. He slumped to the ground, a satisfied chuckle making Blair's skin crawl. "Come here," he commanded, watching Blair turn around and come toward him. "Good boy. I've got a treat for you." He snapped a cockring on the base of Blair's penis, trapping the raging hard-on in painful arousal. The music was turned on once more. "Dance, Baby. Make me hot for you." He reached out to stroke Blair's cock, the touch driving the young man away, out into the meadow to dance. 

As much as he hated performing for Bloomfield, Blair found dancing a form of escape. With his eyes closed, the music washed over him, freeing him to move in a sensual rhythm. Freeing him to think of more pleasant days. 

* * *

"What do I do?" Blair asked, kneeling over Jim, waiting for instructions in the art of loving another man. 

"First you need to stretch me a bit. It's been a while," Jim admitted. "Just put some lube on your fingers, and insert them one at a time. When I'm loose enough to take three, I'm ready for you." 

Blair squeezed some lube onto his index finger and gingerly probed at Jim's opening. "Harder than that, Chief, or you'll never get in," Jim chuckled. He applied more pressure, surprised and delighted when his digit slipped past the ring of muscle and slid into the tight tunnel of Jim's ass. 

"That's good, Baby," Jim crooned. "Try two." 

Blair pulled out, re-lubed his fingers, and entered again. He scissored his fingers as he had felt Jim do with him, stretching the orifice enough to allow his cock entrance. 

"Deeper, Sweetheart. Push them deeper," Jim moaned, already aroused and ready. "Feel for a little nub, about the size of a walnut," he instructed. 

Blair probed deeper, searching for the requested gland. A sharp gasp of pleasure from below him indicated he had found Jim's prostate. "Yes. Yes!" Jim hissed. "I'm ready, Blair. Please. Now." 

The young man withdrew his fingers and positioned his aching cock at Jim's hole. The muscle opened to accept him, and he slid inside the tight warmth. The spasming of Jim's rectum around his arousal was nearly enough to send him over the edge before he'd even started. The ache of impending orgasm... 

* * *

...brought Blair out of his self-induced fantasy. He found himself stroking his trapped erection, smiling mellowly at the memory of his first time with Jim. Bloomfield sat on the picnic blanket, stroking his own hard cock, which he'd pulled from his pants. 

"Make yourself come," Bloomfield demanded. "Take off the cockring and make yourself come." 

Already, Blair could feel the painful tightening in his ravaged testicles. His body demanded relief, but the cockring prevented it. Memories of previous orgasms washed through his mind -- the agony of release since the gold ring had damaged his internal plumbing. "No," he said, refusing the order. 

Bloomfield shook his head. Motioning with his hands, a dozen men stepped from their concealment among the trees surrounding the clearing. "Do you really think you can defy me and get away with it?" he snarled. Two men stepped forward. One held Blair securely, while the other removed the restricting cockring. Once the deed was done, they melted back into the crowd around the perimeter. 

"Now, Baby, stroke yourself like you were doing when you danced. Come for me," Bloomfield ordered again. 

"No!" Blair spat out. "It hurts. My balls hurt. My dick hurts. I won't do it just to please you!" Even Blair wondered where this bravado came from. He knew the consequences he was courting, but his rage at his treatment had finally boiled over. No one had the right to treat another person this way. By capitulating out of fear, Blair gave power to the man who held him prisoner. No more. He would end it here, if he could. Death was preferable to the continued torture and rape. "No!" 

"How quickly you forget, Baby," Bloomfield said, shaking his head. He approached the young man, who backed away, temporarily forgetting the men behind him as the hunting knife was pulled from Bloomfield's belt. 

Blair bumped into one of the guards who quickly wrapped his arms around the struggling man, grasping at the straining erection to hold it out of the way. 

Bloomfield approached, nicking Blair's remaining testicle with the tip of the knife. "Are you so ready to lose the other one?" he growled. Blair flinched, attempting to pull back, but unable to protect his exposed privates. Bloomfield laughed at his helpless struggling. "No," he mused. "I think I have something more interesting in mind for you this time." He motioned to his men. "Get him ready. I'm taking him home." 

Many hands assaulted his body, carrying Blair back over to the open sleeping bag. He was dumped onto the soft surface and pushed down onto his back. The cockring was put in place, assuring he could not lose his hard-on until Bloomfield allowed it. A pair of arms extended from over his head, lifting and pulling his knees to his chest, exposing his most private opening to the cool breeze of the forest. He groaned in pain and defeat as the dildo prodded at his anus, demanding entry. His body fought off the invader, but was unsuccessful in keeping it from breaching the muscle and filling him to the point of discomfort. 

He was pulled to his feet, where Bloomfield waited to reattach the leash and lead him back down the dirt path to the cabin. The padded handcuffs were applied, binding Blair's hands behind his back. He was flanked by two of the guards, each holding an arm to make sure he couldn't escape. 

Blair's heart thundered in his chest as they neared the cabin. He had dared to defy his captor, and he knew his punishment would be severe. Sweat trickled down his face. He found his legs were barely able to support him as the cabin came into view. He stumbled, falling to his knees, crying out when he felt himself lifted and carried the rest of the way to the cabin and into the bedroom. 

His hands were bound to the headboard, while two of Bloomfield's goons held down his legs. The fat man loomed above him, a leering smile making his skin crawl. 

"Well, Baby, it's time to start your punishment," he said, his voice cold and uncaring. Removing the cockring that constricted Blair's arousal, he began stroking the shaft with an almost gentle touch -- a touch designed to bring forth a raging climax. 

The pain was intense. Blair felt his testicle tighten, pulling on the new stitches and barely-healed excision. He bit his lip, not wanting to cry out, not wanting to give this man the pleasure of his pain. He squirmed under the tormenting hand, feeling his orgasm begin to crest. Unable to withhold the cry, Blair screamed as his damaged penis pulsed, shooting creamy come over his chest and face. When the spasming of his cock finally ceased, Blair let out a small sigh. If this was his punishment, then all that was left was another rape and more endless days in his small cage. 

But it wasn't the end. The hand stopped stroking. In its place, the leash was attached and the hook lowered until the rhinestone-studded leather loop could be slipped over the cruel device. Blair heard the click of a button and the whir of a motor as he felt his butt lifted off the bed, suspended by the ring in the head of his cock. If he had imagined the orgasm as painful, he had no words for the agony caused by the weight pulling on his penis. 

A hand probed his ass, pulling out the uncomfortable dildo. Through the sound of blood pounding in his ears, Blair could make out words from the people surrounding him. "Better be careful, Boss. If he hangs there too long, that ring'll rip right out of his cock." 

"Then get your hands under his ass and take some of the weight off. I'm not done with him yet." 

Blair felt two sets of palms press against his ass, taking away a fraction of the agony by supporting some of his weight. Fingers pressed into his jaw, forcing his mouth open painfully wide. The smell of semen and human waste accosted his nose before the dildo was shoved past his teeth to the back of his mouth. He gagged, trying to spit out the offending thing, afraid he'd lose his stomach contents if it wasn't removed soon. His head whipped back and forth, trying to dislodge the imitation penis blocking his throat. Ineffectual noises slipped past the obstruction, only angering the man in control. 

A knife pricked at his exposed sac. "Spit it out, and lose your other ball," Bloomfield threatened. "I really don't want to make a eunuch out of you," he admitted. "Takes away from some of the fun. But I'll do what I have to do. You know that I will." 

Blair tried to relax, to allow his body to accept its current predicament, but the pain was intense, wiping out all common sense. He continued to struggle until more hands appeared to hold him still. A strap was slipped under his chin and attached to some sort of headgear that pressed against his temples. With a jerk, he found his head immobilized, anchored to the headboard just as his hands were. 

The bed dipped ominously, and Blair knew what was coming. He was going to be fucked, and fucked hard. The head of Bloomfield's dick pushed against his suspended ass, setting his lower body in motion despite the supporting hands. Tears erupted from his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. Despite the dildo gagging his throat, he cried out, unable to stop himself. He writhed in his bonds, wanting nothing more than to be free of the pain, of the humiliation of his bondage. 

Bloomfield growled and the hands shifted from his ass to grip his hips, stilling the swaying motion. The hard cock pushed at his anus, breaching the tight muscle, filling him. His legs were lifted and placed to rest on Bloomfield's shoulders. The merciless pounding began, and Blair was left to wonder which of the numerous tortures he was being subjected to was worse. 

A commotion rocked the room, but Blair was in too much pain to register what was going on. Voices shouted, loud popping noises echoed in the room, and the pounding stopped. His ass was lowered back to the bed, the dildo removed from his mouth, and the most coveted voice in Blair's universe spoke. 

~oO0Oo~ 

The bedroom door burst open, and suddenly the room was filled with police. Chaos erupted as Bloomfield's men fought back. A gunshot sounded in the room, and Bloomfield's main goon, Giles Markham, slumped to the floor. 

James Ellison led the charge, military training taking over to block out the sight of Blair in the bed. As the others carted off Bloomfield's men, Jim focused on the man himself. Buried balls-deep in Blair's suspended ass, Gordon Bloomfield stopped his motion, stunned at the sudden intrusion. 

A snarl reminiscent of a large jungle cat emanated from the furious police detective. "Get your fucking dick out of that man's fucking ass!" he growled at the frightened businessman. Carefully, Bloomfield pulled out, his still erect cock bobbing frantically as he tried to dodge Ellison's grip. 

Jim hauled him off the mattress and shoved him up against the wall, cuffing his hands behind his back. He pushed Bloomfield toward the waiting detectives before he could give in to his urge to snap the man's neck, and turned his attention to the small figure on the bed. 

"Oh my God," he moaned, finally allowing himself to take in the tableau. Unsnapping the leash from the ring in Blair's penis, he lowered the young man back to the bed. Slowly, and with great care, he pulled the offensive dildo from Blair's mouth. Blair moaned, still too wrapped in his blanket of pain to take notice of his guardian angel. 

Jim examined the damaged penis. The fleshy head had supported the majority of the young man's weight for several minutes, at least, and had torn part way through. He tore a strip of cloth from his undershirt to staunch the flow of blood, then pulled a blanket over Blair's abused body, and began searching the dead guard for a key to the cuffs that held Blair a prisoner on the bed. Luckily, the man he shot appeared to be the lead henchman -- a ring of keys was in his pocket. After trying several, Jim finally found the ones that opened the cuff and the head brace. Blair fell limply into his arms. 

Eyelids fluttered and a crack of blue shone through heavy lashes. "J-Jim?" The voice was soft and rough, as though Blair's throat was raw, as it certainly was from his cries of anguish. "You came." 

"Did you ever doubt it?" Jim asked, incredulously. When Blair only nodded, Jim gathered the battered and broken body into his arms, cradling the young man while his tears dampened the long curls. The medics, who were on standby outside when the raid went down, had a difficult time prying the injured man from Jim's fierce embrace. 

~oO0Oo~ 

A doctor stepped through the door separating the ER trauma rooms from the waiting area. Five men and a woman stood up greet him. "Detective James Ellison?" the doctor inquired. Jim took a step forward. The doctor glanced down at his clipboard, then up at the man waiting impatiently in front of him. "Hello. My name's Masterson." He shook hands with the detective. "The admittance papers have you down as contact for Blair Sandburg, but I see no power of attorney, and you're not next of kin?" 

"Blair rents an extra room in my apartment," Jim lied glibly. The statement had once been the truth, but no longer since the two had become lovers. "His mother is on safari, or some-such thing, and can't be contacted. I'm the closest thing he has to family." 

"And the rest of you?" the doctor inquired. 

"We're Jim's coworkers," Simon told him. "Blair has become an unofficial part of the Cascade PD staff, and we're worried about him." 

Dr. Masterson nodded, checking his chart once more. "Well, the news isn't good," he began. "There is still infection, despite the fact that Mr. Sandburg had been receiving at least some treatment for it. The high fever may have rendered him sterile. That is something we won't be able to check until he's feeling better. The infection was caused by the crude removal of his left testicle, and the untreated cuts to his scrotum." 

"Oh my God...." Jim murmured. He remembered with clarity his first sight of the mutilated body of the young anthropologist. His own balls had retracted painfully at the sight, while tears of pain and outrage at the brutal treatment had fallen unheeded down his cheeks. Now those tears threatened to return as the doctor continued his litany of Blair's torture. 

"The ring through the glans of his penis tore into the flesh and may have done damage to the urethra. I was able to insert a catheter, but not without some difficulty. There has been almost no drainage of urine. A preliminary test of kidney function indicates there may well be damage. We don't know how severe yet." Masterson glanced again at his notes, lifting pages to check his facts. "He was gone for seventeen days?" He glanced up at Jim, who nodded. "He was severely dehydrated. His body didn't receive the necessary fluids to keep his kidneys functioning, and now they are apparently shutting down." 

"What does that mean, exactly?" Simon asked, concerned for the young man who had stolen all their hearts. 

"We still need to do additional tests, but there's a good chance Mr. Sandburg may need dialysis. If the damage is severe enough, we may be looking at a transplant." 

Jim seethed, forcing the words from his clenched jaw. "What about that damn ring? Are you going to remove it?" 

"We will definitely need to remove the ring from the penis. His urethra will most likely require surgery to repair. There will be scarring, but we'll do our best to keep it to a minimum," the doctor said. 

Jim was speechless, his face reddening with the rage he felt toward Bloomfield and the atrocities visited on a young man who had yet to see his twenty-third birthday. Simon spoke up in his place. "Is that everything? Not like that isn't quite enough," he grumbled. 

"Just a couple more things," Masterson said, weariness in his voice. "Mr. Sandburg underwent numerous rapes during his imprisonment. There was internal tearing of the muscle and soft tissue of the rectum -- nothing requiring stitches, but he's going to be quite sore for some time. There is also evidence that other, less natural, items were inserted into his rectum to keep him stretched." The doctor glanced up at Jim, who had riveted him with an icy blue stare. The doctor swallowed hard and continued. "Mr. Sandburg's anus will take some time to shrink and build up the muscle strength to hold his bowel movements. In the meantime, I'm afraid he will have no control. This condition is almost always acutely embarrassing to the patient. I can assure you that we'll do our best to make him comfortable until such time as his control returns." The doctor stopped to take a breath, and assess the impact of his words on the small audience. 

Taggert, Rafe, Brown and Megan Connor had taken the doctor's statements in stoic silence. Jim looked like he wanted to kill something. Anything. Anyone. Anyone who pissed him off just one more time. Simon stepped into the breach. "You said a couple more things," he reminded the physician. 

Masterson sighed and addressed the group yet again. "STDs, AIDS... we've taken blood and are running tests. There's always that possibility, but we're hoping for the best. Then there's the tattoo on his buttock. That can be removed with laser surgery, but I'd prefer to put off the treatment until we can take care of the more immediate concerns. 

"There is some good news," he continued, hoping to lighten the mood of the somber group. Six pairs of eyes focused on the doctor. "When Mr. Sandburg has recovered a bit, we can do some cosmetic surgery to repair his scrotal sac. We have small, silicon-filled implants, much like a breast implant, that we can use to simulate the appearance and feel of the missing testicle." He smiled at seeing his news make a small dent in the cloud of despair hanging over the group who stood before him. "I believe that this restorative surgery is necessary to Mr. Sandburg's recovery from his ordeal. Rape victims have a difficult time regaining their self-esteem. Especially male victims, as it is rarely acknowledged that men _are_ raped and suffer the same nightmares, fears and self-esteem problems as women." 

"Thank you, Doctor," Jim interrupted. "But when can we see Blair?" 

"He's being taken to a room as we speak. However, he's going to be sedated and groggy, so I think it's best that only you, Detective Ellison, visit at this time," Doctor Masterson said. "And don't expect too much from him. He's pretty out of it right now. I'll have the receptionist page you when he's settled." 

Jim nodded and sat heavily into one of the molded plastic waiting room chairs. 

Joel Taggert approached the distraught man. "Hey, Jim." He placed a large hand reassuringly on the detective's shoulder. "We're praying for him, and you, too." 

Jim looked up at the captain and smiled weakly. "Thanks. Sounds like Blair's going to need all the help he can get." 

The big hand patted his shoulder gently. "We're all just in the way around here. Somebody has to get back and mind the store." Joel grinned at his friend, then turned serious once more. "You be sure to tell us how he's doing once you're done visiting." 

Jim nodded. 

Simon got up to see his detectives out. Megan broke from the group and went to kneel in front of Jim. "You let us know if there's anything we can do for _you_ , Jimbo. Okay?" she pleaded. "We can all see that you're hurting, too." 

"Thanks, Megan." Jim's voice came out a whisper. "I'll be better when I can see Blair again." 

"You take care, mate," the Aussie Inspector admonished. "If you're going to help Blair, you need to be good to yourself." She stood, and with a last glance at Jim, followed the rest of the group to the door. 

After seeing his detectives off, Simon returned to sit next to Jim. 

"Don't say it, Simon," Jim growled. 

"What? Say what?" the captain looked confused, and genuinely worried about his friend. 

Jim turned his head to look at the man. "That everything's going to be all right. That Blair's going to be all right." 

"Don't you believe that?" Simon asked. 

Jim shook his head. "I _want_ to believe it," he said fervently. "But he's been hurt so badly, suffered so much. I can't get my hopes up too high. If anything goes wrong, it would hurt too much." 

"You love him," Simon guessed, the light finally shining brightly on all the little innuendoes the pair had given off. "Does he love you back?" 

"Yes. Oh, yes, Simon!" Jim turned an anguished face toward his captain. "We were learning together. Learning to love, to trust. He's just a _kid_!" The explosion of emotion rocketed Jim from his seat and set him pacing the floor. "He didn't do anything to deserve _this_!" 

"James Ellison?" The female voice floated across the room, startling both men from the emotional confrontation. Jim looked up and walked over to the desk. "Mr. Sandburg is ready for visitors. Room 434." 

"Thank you!" Jim rushed off down the corridor to the bank of elevators, leaving his captain to wait alone. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim slowly pushed open the hospital room door. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light of the room. A small figure lay on the bed, shrouded in blankets and sprouting an amazing amount of tubing and needles. 

He approached the bed, somewhat surprised to see Blair look so small and fragile -- almost childlike. A nasal cannula supplied oxygen through his nostrils, while two IV bags supplied nutrients and fluids. Another line of tubing was hooked to a machine that dispensed measured doses of morphine on a regular schedule. Once Blair was conscious enough, he would be able to dose himself as needed. His eyes were closed, and the quiet sound of the monitor kept time with the beat of his heart. He looked so young, so innocent. Yet Jim knew the man in the bed was anything but innocent anymore. Warm tears slid down his face to land in quiet drops on Blair's cheeks. 

Long lashes fluttered, and slowly the wide blue eyes opened. "Jim?" The voice was faint, but full of hope and longing. 

"Yeah, Sweetheart, it's me," Jim answered. He captured the hand that lifted from the sheets in search of physical contact. 

"You found me." 

"Did you ever doubt that I would?" Jim asked. 

Blair nodded once. "It hurt so much, Jim," he whispered. "How long?" 

"Seventeen days," Jim said, wincing as the words left his mouth. Seventeen days of torture and humiliation. Seventeen days of rapes and illness. Seventeen days of wondering if he'd ever see his home and his lover again. Seventeen days. 

"Love you." 

"I love you, too, kid." Jim's voice nearly broke. He leaned over and placed a soft kiss against the quiet lips and was surprised to feel them purse under his, returning the gesture of love. "You rest now, okay? We'll talk later, when you're feeling a little better." 

"Stay with me?" Blair's quiet voice pleaded. 

Jim pulled over a chair and settled in next to the bed. He encased Blair's hand in both of his and prepared himself for the vigil. Within minutes, Blair's breathing had evened out into sleep. 

Around midnight, a soft keening woke the sleeping sentinel. He opened his eyes to see Blair's head whipping back and forth, his whole body slowly beginning to writhe. He stood, reaching over the railing to try and quiet the tossing. 

" _No_!" Blair yelled, alerting the nurse at the station outside his door. "Don't touch me!" 

"What's going on in here?" The head nurse barreled into the room, determined to calm her patient and remove the source of his distress. Grabbing at Jim's arm, she tried to pry him away from the bed. 

"He's having a nightmare!" Jim hissed, trying to keep his voice low. "Blair? Blair, Sweetheart, wake up. It's me, Jim." He gently shook the sleeping man. 

Blair blinked rapidly, slowly coming out of the terror that had haunted his sleep. "Jim?" 

"Yeah, Kiddo. It's me." Jim smiled down reassuringly at his lover. "You're all right. It was just a nightmare." Blair squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away from his partner. "Want to talk about it?" Blair shook his head, indicating that he did not. 

The nurse injected a hypodermic needle into her patient's IV line and turned to Jim. "This will help him sleep. If he has any more bad dreams, give us a holler out at the nurses' station and someone will come to assist you." 

"Thanks." Jim turned back to the figure in the bed as the nurse took her leave. "Don't you worry," he assured the young man. "No one is ever going to hurt you like that again." Blair's eyes were closed, but he nodded his acceptance of Jim's declaration before slipping back into sleep. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Doctor Masterson smiled at his patient as he entered the room on the morning of Blair's third day in the hospital. "Good morning, Blair," he greeted him. "How are you feeling?" 

"Better, I guess," his patient answered. "Everything still aches." 

"I'm not surprised. The damage to your genitals was pretty severe. We've done our best to repair the damage to your penis, but I'm afraid urinating may still be painful for a while. Are you using the morphine pump?" the doctor asked. "That's what it's there for. Don't worry, it's set so that you can't overdose. Feel free to use it when you start to feel uncomfortable." 

"I use it," Blair admitted. "I just don't like using it more than I need to." 

"That's understandable," the doctor admitted. "Many patients feel uncomfortable dosing themselves. Others have a higher tolerance for pain. Just don't forget it's there for your comfort." Masterson leaned over the young man, pulling down the gown so that he could listen to his heart and lungs. "A nurse will be coming in soon to take your vitals and give you a bath," he told Blair. "I'll be back this afternoon with the results of your kidney tests. Will Jim be here?" 

"I think he's coming in soon," Blair said. "He promised he'd be here by ten." 

"That's good. I'll see you this afternoon, then." The doctor brushed past the incoming nurse as he left the room. 

The nurse closed the door and pulled the curtain around Blair's bed. "Hi, Blair. Remember me?" 

"Carol," Blair answered, smiling. 

"Got it in one, big guy." Carol returned the smile, flirting lightly as she quickly and efficiently took and noted Blair's vitals. "Now, how about a freshen-up?" She pulled her cart over, and got her supplies ready. Then, pulling down the blanket, she exposed Blair, leaving only the thin hospital gown covering him. "Unless it's really bothering you, I think we'll leave your hair for now," she said. "In a day or two, you should be up and walking around. Once we can get you in the shower, it'll be easier to wash." 

Blair grimaced, but nodded his agreement. He hated when his hair became an oily mat, but he could wait another couple days. Carol peeled back the gown to expose his chest. Starting with his face, she gently began wiping him down. Each arm was bathed, with special care being given to the areas where IVs still ran into his veins. Moving to his chest, she hesitated when a quiet hiss escaped from between Blair's teeth as the cloth rubbed lightly over his right nipple. "Still sore, huh?" she commiserated. Blair nodded. "I'll try to be more careful." 

"I'm okay." 

"Do me a favor, Darlin'," Carol's light southern accent drawled. "Give yourself a hit of morphine." When Blair hesitated, she reached across the bed to press a button on the pump. "There now, you'll be more comfortable. You'll see." 

When she reached his navel, she pulled the gown back up to his chin, then pulled up the lower half, exposing his genitals. Blair tensed, but allowed her touch. True to her word to be more careful, Carol treated the abused organs with her special brand of tender loving care. She wiped down his legs, then helped the young man to roll onto his side, so that she could wash his back. 

Carol grimaced as the ugly tattoo on his right buttock was revealed. Fortunately, Blair had buried his face in his pillow, and hadn't seen her reaction. Like most of the hospital staff who attended the young man, she wanted nothing more than to strangle his tormentor with her bare hands. _Better yet,_ she thought, * _castrate_ him with my bare hands!* 

She finished the bath, covering Blair with a clean gown and pulling the blankets back up. "See you later, Hon. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She winked as she passed Jim Ellison entering the room. 

Blair chuckled. "Leaves me plenty of latitude," he called after her. Carol's laughter echoed down the hall. "Hey, Jim!" 

"Hey yourself, Half-pint. How're you doing?" Jim pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable next to the bed. 

"Feeling no pain, man," Blair smiled. "Carol gave me a hit of morphine." 

"Good for her. You're not using that stuff as much as you should," Jim scolded. He picked up the nearest hand and began rubbing the back of it with his thumb. "I worry about you." 

"I know you do, Jim. I'm doing okay, really." Blair turned his head and smiled at the man seated next to him. "You know what would make me feel even better?" 

"No, Darwin. What would that be?" Jim asked, returning the mischievous grin. 

Blair crooked his finger, and Jim moved in closer. "More," Blair demanded. Jim leaned over the bed, and Blair pulled him down for a kiss, his tongue probing into Jim's willing mouth. As they parted, Blair moaned. "Oh man! Oh, man...." he repeated, pulling his knees toward his chest. 

Jim stroked the high forehead soothingly. "What's the matter?" 

Another groan escaped Blair's lips. "My stomach hurts." 

Standing, Jim reached for the call button, just as a noxious odor reached his nose. 

"Oh, God.... I have to shit," Blair moaned. "I'm messing myself. Jim? Oh, God!" Jim gathered the heaving shoulders into his arms and held on as Blair cried. 

* * *

He was bound tightly to the table, unable to move. Fat hands fondled his penis as he cried out for mercy. A sharp pain pierced the head of his erect cock, causing him to void his bladder and lose control of his bowels. The pain and humiliation were almost more than he could bear. 

* * *

"Make it stop, please!" he begged. "I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to... but it hurt so much! It hurt so much...." 

Jim had dialed back his sense of smell to almost nothing as he rocked Blair, hugging him tighter and patting his back reassuringly. "I know. I know, Sweetheart," he whispered into Blair's ear. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't help it. You're safe now. Everything's going to be all right." 

Carol poked her head in the room. "You rang?" Seeing her patient's distress, she quickly entered. "Oh," she said, coming up short as she approached the bed. "Just give me a minute. I'll be right back." With that, she ducked from the room. 

"Why?" Blair sobbed out the question. 

"It's okay, Baby," Jim crooned, stroking sweat-dampened hair. "It'll be over soon." 

Blair pulled away abruptly, wincing as he encountered the mess on the bed. "Don't call me that!" he all but shouted. "Bloomfield called me that," he said more quietly, resuming his place in Jim's embrace. 

"Sorry, Sweetheart," Jim apologized. "I didn't know." Before he could answer Blair's original question, Carol was back with her cart. He released his hold on the young man and let the nurse take over. 

She went to the opposite side of the bed, peeling back the blanket. "Oh, yes. We have ourselves a bit of a mess here. Looks like you got your gown dirty, too," she clucked, quickly removing the soiled garment, and covering Blair's front with the blanket. "This will just take a minute." She turned to Jim. "Maybe you should step outside for a few minutes -- to give Blair a little privacy," she suggested. 

"Jim?" Blair cast a worried glance at his partner. 

"It's up to you, Blair. If you want me to stay, I'll stay -- or go. Just say the word." Jim stood next to the bed, awaiting his lover's decision. 

"Stay. Please. Don't leave me." Blair reached out and clasped Jim's hand. 

Carol smiled at the couple and nodded her approval. She removed the soiled pad that protected the mattress from the mess, and slid a clean one under Blair's hips. She then took some moist cloths and quickly cleaned his butt, dressing and covering him up in a matter of minutes. "There. All done." She patted Blair's hip, leaning over to get a good look at his tear-stained face. "Blair, Darlin', whether you know it or not, this was a _good_ thing." 

"How could messing myself possibly be a 'good thing'?" Blair barked at the nurse, humiliation still coloring his face bright red. 

"It means your body finally has enough nutrients to start processing again. It also means that your bowels are in good working order. One less thing to worry about. Dr. Masterson will be very pleased." She smiled at her patient, reassurance shining in her eyes. "As a matter of fact," she continued, "Dr. Masterson left standing orders that you could start solid foods after your first bowel movement." She smiled. "Are you hungry? I could put in an order for you." 

Blair shook his head. "I don't want to go through that again," he said fervently. 

"Sorry, Darlin'," Carol apologized. "I'm afraid this is just the first of many." She turned to her patient. "Hon, when that _man_ had you, he stretched you out so much that it's going to take your body time to tighten up again. I can teach you some exercises, called 'Kegels', to speed up the process, but it can still take several weeks." 

" _Weeks_?" Blair's eyes grew wide. "No way! I _cannot_ be messing myself for _weeks_!" 

"You don't have a choice, Sugar," Carol told him. "When you're ready to leave the hospital, we'll supply you with disposable underwear that you can use until you get your control back." 

"Great," Blair sighed. "Just what I need... _diapers_!" 

Carol approached her patient, framing his face with the palms of her hands. "I know it's hard, Darlin', but it's only temporary. You're doing great and we're all really proud of you." 

"Yeah, right," Blair murmured, distinctly unhappy with his current circumstances. 

"She's right, you know," Jim added, squeezing Blair's hand. "You're doing remarkably well and we're all proud of you. _I'm_ proud of you. We're not going to let a little thing like this come between us, are we? After all, it's only temporary." 

Blair frowned, but shook his head. "I just don't want to be a bother," he said. 

"Loving you is never a bother," Jim told him. "And taking care of you and your needs is part of love, right?" Reluctantly, Blair nodded his agreement. 

"Let me explain the exercises." Carol sat on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on Blair's hip. "They're really very simple. You need to contract the muscles around your anus. Women with bladder control issues do these exercises, too. For them, the best way to isolate the muscles is to try and squeeze off the flow of urine when they use the bathroom. They start and stop the flow several times during each potty break. Once the muscles are isolated, they can do the exercises whenever and wherever they want, and nobody else has to know." She smiled at her patient who was scowling at her. "Isolating the sphincter muscle in your anus should be even easier. Try it." 

Blair closed his eyes, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. Moments later his face tightened with discomfort. Jim squeezed his hand again. "Are you okay?" he asked. 

"Yeah," came the slightly pained response. 

"See? That wasn't so bad," Carol congratulated her patient. "You'll still feel a little discomfort while the tearing heals, but I want you to do the exercises whenever you think about them. Try at least ten repetitions at a time. The more often you practice, the sooner your control will come back." 

"How soon?" Blair asked hopefully. 

"Sooner than if you _don't_ practice," Carol chided. Then softening a bit, she added, "But it's still going to take at least a couple weeks, maybe longer. How long depends on how diligent you are with your practice. Now, I think I'll order you a little chocolate pudding and some milk. How does that sound?" 

"If he won't eat it, I will," Jim quipped, earning himself a frown from his recalcitrant partner. 

"Waste not, want not," Carol replied with a laugh. "The food should be up within a half hour." She took her cart and left the two men alone. 

"Well," Blair sighed. "One more thing to add to the 'to do' list. I'm afraid that when they release me from here, the tome of care instructions will be three inches thick!" Blair locked gazes with his lover. "Promise me something?" Jim nodded. "Never stop loving me." 

Gathering the young man back into his arms, Jim hugged him, placing small kisses on his neck and shoulder. "Oh, God, Blair. I _never_ stopped loving you. I never will. If anything, I appreciate more what I nearly lost. You couldn't get rid of me if you tried." 

"I don't plan on trying," Blair said, returning the hug. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"Good afternoon, Jim," Dr. Masterson greeted the ever-present detective. "Well, Blair," he said, turning to his patient, "I see we have some good news on the chart." Blair looked up at the doctor with a quizzical expression. "You had a bowel movement this morning," he clarified. 

"Oh. That." Blair dipped his head. "Yeah, you could say that." He felt the powerful grip of Jim's hand, reassuring him that everything would be okay. 

"Think of it this way," the doctor said. "I'm not signing your release papers until _after_ you've had a bowel movement, and can urinate on your own. You're halfway there. Think you're ready to see if you can pee?" 

Blair looked skeptical. "Will I have control of that?" 

"Oh, most definitely," Masterson assured him. "What worries me is the discomfort factor. I had trouble inserting the catheter line when you first arrived. Even since the surgery to repair your urethra, catheterizing has been difficult. I suspect you'll have some pain at first when you try to urinate. It should get better with time." He lifted Blair's gown. "On the count of three...." He took gentle hold of Blair's penis with his left hand and the catheter line with his right. "One -- two -- three!" 

"Oh, man!" Blair's spine arched slightly as the line was pulled out and a few drops of urine wet the protective pad under his hips. 

"Sorry," the doctor apologized. "I know that hurt." 

"You can say that again!" Blair agreed. "What do you use on that thing? Sandpaper?" A small smile curved his lips at the soft touch of a hand on his forehead, petting back through his hair in a comforting gesture. "I'm okay, I guess," he finally admitted. 

"You're doing great," Jim assured him, leaning over to place a kiss on Blair's cheek. 

Masterson smiled at the couple. "Feel the need to go yet?" he asked his patient. Blair shook his head. 

"Then, while we're waiting, I have the results of the tests we ran on your kidney function, Blair." The doctor seated himself on the foot of the bed and addressed both men. "The news isn't good," he said, shaking his head. 

"How bad?" Blair had already had enough blows for one day, but he knew there was no putting off the news. 

"You have acute kidney failure, most likely caused by the lack of fluids during your confinement and the damage to your urethra, preventing you from urinating. At this point, your kidneys are functioning at about twenty-five percent of capacity. 

"The news isn't _all_ bad," the doctor continued. "Acute renal failure can sometimes be reversed with proper treatment and diet. Because your function is so low at this point, I'd like to see you on dialysis three times a week. This will give your kidneys a rest, and time to heal." 

"How long will he have to stay on dialysis?" Jim asked. 

Masterson shook his head. "I wish I could tell you. It depends a lot on Blair, on luck, on genetics, on the extent of the damage. Probably at least several months. If his kidneys show signs of healing, we can back off treatment and see if diet alone will handle it. However, if his kidneys continue to decline, we may be looking at a transplant. We should contact any relatives to be tested in case a donation becomes necessary." 

"I-I don't have many relatives," Blair stuttered. "Mom's in South America, and I can't contact her. I can give you the names of a couple cousins and an aunt that live nearby." 

"That will be fine. I'm not quite ready to put you on the transplant list yet, but if your kidneys continue to fail, I may be forced to do it," Masterson admitted. "I'm very sorry, Blair. I wish I had better news for you." 

"Any idea when he can come home?" 

"Not for at least a couple weeks," the doctor said. "First, I want to make sure this young man can urinate unassisted. After that, I'd like to see him through his first few dialysis sessions, at least. His release will depend on how well he reacts to treatment. And he still has his reconstructive surgery to consider." He turned back to his patient. "We'll have to do some minor surgery on your arm to implant a shunt for the dialysis. The shunt makes it easier to just 'plug you in' to the machine, instead of having to poke you with needles every time you come in." 

"Will it hurt?" Blair asked. 

"Oh, no," Masterson assured him. "Your arm will be a little sore at first, but after that, it's much less painful than getting poked and prodded with needles three times a week." He smiled at the young man. 

"What about the tattoo?" Blair asked. 

"Laser surgery can remove it, but there are other, more urgent matters to attend to first," the doctor told him. 

"But I want it off _now_!" Blair complained. "I'm nobody's property! I don't like advertising it every time I get out of bed and my butt wags in the wind!" 

"Blair," Doctor Masterson began. "I understand how you feel about that, and it _is_ a priority for us... just not a high one at the moment. Your kidneys are our first concern, followed by the reconstructive surgery to your genitals." 

Jim placed a reassuring hand on Blair's shoulder. "Everything will work out. You'll see," he said. "And I don't care what it says on your ass. You don't belong to anyone. You're free to give yourself, if you choose, but _nobody_ owns you. Remember that." 

Blair sighed with resignation and eyed the doctor. "So, when do we start?" 

"I'd like to schedule your first dialysis for no later than the end of the week. We can put the shunt in tomorrow, after you've rested a bit. The reconstructive surgery can happen the day after the dialysis. First, you have to pee for me. Any urge yet?" 

Blair looked back and forth between the doctor and Jim. 

"Spit it out, Chief," Jim pressed. "You gotta go, or not?" When Blair continued to be silent, Jim finally turned to the doctor. "I've lived with this man long enough to know. He has to go, he just doesn't want to." 

"You want to go home, don't you, Blair?" Masterson asked. 

The tousled head nodded, and without a word, Blair slipped off the bed and headed for the bathroom, dragging his IV pole beside him. Several minutes passed with only silence coming from the small lavatory. Finally, the scent of saline tears and the soft hitching of Blair's breathing caught the sentinel's attention. He got up and went to check on his partner. 

"Everything all right in here?" he asked quietly. 

Blair stood in front of the toilet, trying to silence his tears. "I'm sorry, Jim," he apologized. "I tried. I'm trying. I have to go. I just _can't_." 

"You have to relax," Jim said, walking up behind the young man and wrapping his arms around Blair's waist. "Lean back on me and think good thoughts. Remember that day in the park when the ice cream truck drove by?" As he spoke, Jim put a gentle pressure low on Blair's abdomen, near his bladder. 

The grad student chuckled at the memory. "Yeah, I remember begging you for money for a snow cone. Instead of giving it to me, you took off after the ice cream truck as if some perp had just stolen an armored car. Oh!" Blair jerked in Jim's embrace, then shuddered as a gentle tinkling sound indicated his success. 

"You okay?" Jim asked, concerned at the tenseness in the body he held. 

"Hurts," Blair answered succinctly, relaxing once his bladder was empty. "Oh, man! If that's what peeing is going to be like, I want the catheter back." 

"That bad?" Dr. Masterson asked as Jim helped Blair back into the bed. Blair nodded. "I'd really rather not put the catheter back in right away," he said. "With renal failure, we need to restrict your fluid intake, which will reduce your need to urinate, anyway. I'll have our staff nutritionist come talk to you about your dietary choices, and I'll get the dialysis set up for as soon as possible." He reached out to pat Blair's shoulder reassuringly. "For what you've been through, you're doing great. I have nothing but good thoughts for your recovery." With a gentle squeeze of the shoulder to emphasize his words, Dr. Masterson turned to leave. As he reached the door, he turned once more to his patient. "And don't you give Carol any grief," he said, shaking a finger at the young man. "She's the best we've got." 

Once the doctor was gone, Blair turned to Jim. "Can it get any worse? Acute kidney failure? Dialysis? Transplant list? God, Jim, what did I ever do to deserve this?" 

"Not a thing, Sweetheart. Not a thing." Jim positioned himself on the bed and picked up Blair's hand, rubbing the back with his thumb, then lifting it to his lips for a kiss. "Bloomfield did this, and I'll see to it that he pays this time. No amount of riches will get his ass out of prison," he swore. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"There now. Are you comfortable?" The nurse in the dialysis center finished connecting her newest patient to the life-saving machine. Blair nodded, looking a bit despondent over his current lot in life. "Good. You can do pretty much as you like -- read, watch TV, have visitors. The treatment lasts for four hours. Is there anything I can get for you?" 

"No, thank you. Jim should be here soon," Blair told her. 

"In that case, I'll give you some privacy. If you need a nurse, don't hesitate to use the call button." As she turned to leave, Jim pushed his way through the door. 

"Jim!" Blair's face lit up like a Christmas tree. 

The door closed behind the nurse as Jim pulled a chair up next to Blair. Before sitting down, he leaned in to capture eager lips in a hungry kiss. When they parted, Blair was breathless. 

"How're you doing there?" he asked, settling in the chair. 

"Much better, now that you're here," the young man replied. "Dr. Masterson said that if all goes well with the dialysis today, he'll do the surgery tomorrow. He's supposed to come down some time this morning to discuss it." 

Jim had picked up Blair's hand as they spoke, and was gently stroking it with his thumb in a soothing pattern that was quickly becoming a habit for him. He dropped his gaze to their joined hands and cleared his throat. "You never talk about it," he began, his voice hoarse with emotion. 

"It's not something I want to remember," Blair whispered. "I still have nightmares." 

"I know, Sweetheart. I know, and I want to help you with it." Jim squeezed his hand and looked into Blair's eyes. "It makes no difference in how I feel about you. You have to know that." 

Blair's voiced quavered as he replied. "But it makes a difference to _me_. 'One down, one to go.' That's what Bloomfield told me, and now, because of the infection, I may be sterile." 

"Oh, Baby... Sweetheart," he quickly corrected himself when he saw the haunted look in his lover's eyes. "That makes no difference. None of this does. You're still the man I fell in love with." 

"Am I?" Blair wondered. "You didn't fall in love with a man who can't pee by himself, or who has to wear a diaper. You didn't fall in love with a man whose ass is covered with tattoos, or who had a ring in his dick. You didn't fall in love with a man who'd been," he choked on the word, but continued bravely, "...raped." 

"You're right," Jim confirmed to Blair's surprise. "I fell in love with an incredible young man who taught me to control my senses and gave me back my life," he continued. "I fell in love with a man who is intelligent and brave -- a survivor of the highest order. What you've been through would have broken most men I know, yet here you are; still beautiful, still strong, still brave and fighting for your recovery." 

"I want so much to be that man for you," Blair said, tears in his eyes. "But I don't know if I am... if I _can_." 

"You already are," Jim assured him. 

A knock on the door interrupted their private talk. "Come in," Blair called to his visitor. Dr. Masterson entered the room, clipboard in hand. He pulled up a chair opposite Jim and addressed his patient. 

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked. 

Blair blinked back the tears that had been forming. "Fine," he managed to reply. 

The doctor looked from Blair to Jim and back again, feeling something had been going on here before he arrived. As neither man seemed inclined to elaborate, he cleared his throat and got down to business. "I'm glad to hear it," he started. "I wanted to explain the surgery to you a bit, if you're ready." Blair nodded, watching the doctor. Masterson reached into a pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a small object, which he dropped into Blair's hand. "This is similar to the implant we'll use to simulate your missing testicle," he said. 

Blair turned the clear, liquid-filled object around in his hand. "Will you be able to tell?" 

"That it's not the real thing?" Masterson clarified. "No. For all intents and purposes, except that of procreation, this will be as real as the one you lost. The size, weight and consistency are nearly identical. Once it's implanted and your scrotum is repaired, there will be no visual or tactile difference." 

Inwardly, Blair was shaking his head. _Jim will know. His senses will register the difference._

As if reading the young man's mind, Jim squeezed his hand. "It doesn't matter. It isn't going to change how I feel about you." 

"But it isn't _real_." Blair complained. 

Unaware of the unspoken level of communication, Dr. Masterson plowed on. "The end result will fool even your personal physician," he explained. "In time, you, too, will tend to forget it's not real." 

"I doubt that," Blair muttered, still depressed. 

"This is voluntary cosmetic surgery," Masterson argued. "If you don't want it, we don't have to go through with it." 

Jim squeezed the hand he held once more. "He wants to go through with it, Doc. He's just in a bit of a fugue right now." 

"Understandable," the doctor concurred. He patted Blair's knee reassuringly. "I have one more thing I'd like to discuss with you about the surgery, but if you're not up to it, we can talk later this afternoon." 

"That's okay," Blair conceded. "I'm sorry. Please go on." 

"You've got nothing to apologize for, young man," Masterson told him. He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. "When we removed the ring from your glans when you were first admitted, the job was rather hurried. The surgery left some scarring that is not only unsightly, but might interfere with your ability to urinate comfortably. As long as the plastic surgeon is there correcting your testicle, I thought we might add some cosmetic surgery to your penis as well." 

Blair glanced at Jim, who smiled his encouragement. "I guess," he agreed. 

"There will still be some scarring across the glans, perhaps a little down the underside of the shaft," Masterson explained. "We'll do our best to make sure it's minimal. The surgery won't affect your ability to have an erection and should increase the pleasure you get from orgasm, as you won't have the pain when you ejaculate as you might if we didn't correct the problem. 

"You'll have a catheter for about two weeks after the surgery, to allow everything to heal properly," the doctor continued. "Of course, if all goes well with the dialysis and the surgery, I still plan on sending you home in another week. How does that sound?" 

"Good," Blair whispered, looking only at Jim. "Very good." 

~oO0Oo~ 

Blair lay propped up in bed, his hips slightly elevated to relieve the pressure on his tender genitals. Carol had pulled the curtain around him and given him a small hand mirror, then left, allowing her patient some privacy. 

His hand shook as he pulled up the gown. What he could see of his pubic region without the help of the mirror looked gruesome. The head of his penis was an angry red, crisscrossed with scars and ugly black sutures, a catheter protruding from the tip. A cautious touch of the organ revealed more stitches along the underside of the shaft. Even his gentle exploring hurt the tender flesh. He shuddered. What would Jim think? Even Blair himself could barely stand to look at the results of the surgery. 

He carefully laid the limp organ aside and reached down between his legs with the mirror. His left hand brushed against his scrotum, now repaired with the testicular implant. His appraising eye was not entirely pleased with the result. The implant appeared larger than his real testicle, giving him a lopsided look. It didn't feel the same, either. He moved his hand to the other side. Warm, pliant flesh met his touch, unlike the dead meat feel of the implant. He knew what a disappointment this was going to be to the sentinel who would be able to detect nuances of change that Blair couldn't even imagine. 

There was a knock at the door. Blair swiftly pulled down his gown and grabbed the blanket, hiding the mirror beneath the covers. He closed his eyes against his embarrassment, barely able to contain the tears that threatened to flow. Jim had come, and he wasn't quite sure he was ready. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he acknowledged the knock with a shaky voice. "Come in." 

To his relief, Dr. Masterson appeared from around the curtain, smiling at him. "The surgery was a complete success," he informed Blair. "Carol told me she'd given you an opportunity to check the results. What do you think?" 

Blair frowned and was slow to reply. "The implant is bigger. It doesn't look right," he complained. 

"The swelling will go down in a few days as the incisions heal," the doctor explained. "You'll be amazed at the difference. I'm quite sure you won't be able to tell them apart by sight or touch." 

"I dunno..." Blair's doubt trailed off and he looked at the physician. "Jim will know." 

"But Jim doesn't care," came a familiar voice from the other side of the curtain. "May I come in?" 

"Jim!" Blair's voice held both anticipation and fear at seeing his lover now. 

Jim poked his head around the edge of the curtain and smiled encouragingly. "Am I interrupting?" 

"Not at all," Masterson said. "I was just checking on Blair. He's doing quite well, despite his complaints." He smiled. "I'll leave you two alone for a while," he said, moving to the edge of the curtain. "I think you have a few things to work out." 

Jim waited until the door was closed behind the doctor. "Are you going to let me see?" 

"It's hideous," Blair warned, tears welling in his eyes. "I don't want you to see me like this... ever. It's awful." 

Jim leaned down to kiss his distraught partner, laying a reassuring hand on the trembling shoulder. "There's nothing about you I can't love," he stated simply. "No surgery, no scarring, no so-called deformity is going to make me love you less. Please, Blair." Reluctantly, the young man nodded. 

Gently, Jim lifted the gown and gazed down at the result of Blair's most recent surgery. He felt a tightening in his groin at the sight of the angry red slashes on the limp penis, and the line of sutures along the scrotal sac where the implant had been inserted. "I don't know what you're talking about," Jim replied. "This looks a hell of a lot better than when you were first brought into the hospital." 

"It makes me sick," Blair replied, his voice hitching slightly with the tears that threatened to fall. "How can you stand to look at it?" 

Jim pulled the gown back down, covering the young man once more. "It's going to get better," he explained. "The swelling will go down, the sutures will come out, and eventually the scars will fade. What you look like isn't important to me. It's who you are that turns me on." 

"Jim?" Blair glanced at his lover's crotch and saw how the soft fabric of Jim's slacks tented outward. "My God, you're hard! D-does looking at me, at my... Jim?" 

"I don't get off on your pain, Darwin. How could you possibly think that?" Jim assured him. "It's just you. Being around you. Watching you. Anticipating you. Waiting for you." 

"It's been a long time," Blair said softly, reaching out to touch the erection through the thin cloth of the cotton khakies. 

"Three weeks," Jim confirmed, leaning into the touch with a moan of pleasure, then drawing back. "But this isn't your concern. I can jerk off at home if I have to." 

"Do it here," Blair suggested, smiling. "I love looking at you." 

Jim shook his head. "Not a good idea. Maybe the bathroom? Blair, I don't want to do anything that might trigger bad memories." 

"No! Please, Jim. Do it here. Let me watch." Blair's eyes were desperate for approval. "I think I need this. Please." 

"It doesn't feel right," Jim complained. 

"It's me, isn't it?" Blair's voice was soft. "The sight of me... of my cock." 

"No! God, no, Blair!" Jim protested, squeezing the young man's hand and stroking his forehead. "I just don't want to be the one to cause you anymore pain." He paused to lean down and kiss the forehead he had been petting. "You've been through enough... more than enough." 

"Watching you will help me heal," Blair assured him quietly. "You need some relief. Let me help?" 

"I-I think this is one I'd be better off doing myself," Jim muttered, unzipping his pants and pulling out his rock-hard erection. He stood beside the bed, his face flushed with embarrassment and need. Wrapping his fist around his aching cock, he began to piston it up and down the length of his shaft. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back as the delicious sensations of his building orgasm began to tug at his balls. His moans of pleasure sent shivers of delight down Blair's spine. With a barely-contained cry of completion, Jim came -- a fountain of semen splattering down on the blanket covering Blair's lap. 

Blair watched the spectacle with glistening eyes. As Jim grunted and came, tears slid down his cheeks. _He_ was the one who could do this to Jim. _He_ was the cause of the exquisite agony and release. Despite what he'd been through, soiled and used as he was, he could still do this to his lover; make him needy, make him come. 

When Jim finally opened his eyes, he saw the tear-streaked face of his soul-mate smiling up at him. 

"I love you." 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim got Blair settled in the wheelchair, his bag of belongings clutched to his chest to keep the weight off his lap. 

"We're going to miss you, Blair," Carol said. "I'd gotten kind of used to your smiling face around here." 

"I'll be back," he assured her in his best Arnold Schwarzenegger accent. 

Carol chuckled and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "You take care of yourself, you hear?" 

Dr. Masterson stepped in. "Blair, I have you scheduled for dialysis on Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings from eight to noon. And I want to see you back here in a week, so I can check on the recovery of the surgical site. Oh, and Jim," he added. "I'd seriously consider getting Blair one of those donut cushions that hernia patients use. He'll be a lot more comfortable while he heals." 

Blair nodded, while Jim supplied his assurance. "Will do. And I'll see to it that he makes all his appointments." Blair turned his head, looking up into his beloved's face with a cocky grin. Despite his discomfort, he was anxious to get home and start getting things back to normal. "Let's go, Chief. Your chariot awaits." Jim pushed the wheelchair to the patient pick-up area where the Expedition was parked. He set the brake, took Blair's burden and tossed it into the back, then helped the young man up and onto the seat. "Here we go." Blair stuck his head out the window and waved at the staff that had gathered to see him off. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim unlocked the apartment door and swept it open so that his long-lost partner could toddle in. A corner of his brain smirked as he watched Blair move over toward the couch. If the reason for Blair's discomfort weren't so serious, the way he waddled as he walked could be considered hilariously funny. It only took a brief thought of the surgery to both balls and cock to make Jim's own contract in sympathy. He hurried over to the couch in time to place the donut cushion down before Blair eased himself onto it. 

"When did you get your last pain pill?" Jim asked, concerned by the expression on the young man's face. 

Blair grimaced. "I'm not due for another Percocet for a couple more hours. I'll be okay," he hurried to assure his fussy nursemaid. "The cushion helps a lot." He tried grinning, but it suddenly turned to a frown. "Oh, shit!" he swore, struggling to stand again. 

The literalness of the young man's statement assaulted Jim's nostrils seconds later. Dialing down smell, he hurried over to the couch to help Blair up. "Thanks, Jim," he said toddling toward the bathroom. 

"Need help?" Jim called after him. 

Blair shook his head. "Nah, I can handle it," he answered. "You put the diapers in the bathroom?" 

"The _Depends_ are in there, yes," Jim told him, upset that Blair referred to the disposables as "adult diapers." 

Minutes later, soft swearing issued from the bathroom, followed shortly by the sound of muffled crying. Jim knocked on the door. "Blair? Are you okay in there? Need help?" When he didn't get an answer, he pushed gently on the door. It swung inward. 

Blair sat on the toilet, his face in his hands, sobbing softly. The used disposable was neatly wrapped and in the trash, but the new one lay on the floor, along with the catheter tubing, collection bag and a puddle of urine. The strong smell of feces still hung in the room. 

Jim pried Blair's hands from his face. "Can you tell me what happened here?" he asked softly. 

Tears stained the pale cheeks as Blair tried to explain through hitching sobs. "I-I was trying to-to clean my butt," he stuttered, wiping his nose on a sleeve. Jim quickly handed him a tissue. Blair wiped his eyes then blew his nose. "But it's hard to reach a-around. I got tangled in the catheter line...." He stopped to sniff back the tears. "...And I pulled it out. Geez, Jim. Is this what life is going to be like? I thought coming home would be a relief." 

"Let me help you, okay?" Jim asked. When Blair nodded meekly, he pulled the young man to his feet, hugging him to his body. He took the flushable towelette wipe and cleaned up the first accident, then set Blair back on the toilet. "I can put the catheter back in for you," he said. "At least you don't have to go all the way back to the hospital." He grinned, trying to show Blair the world wasn't all dark. "It's going to hurt, though," he admitted. "I'll be as gentle as I can." 

"Jim... please, don't." Blair crossed his arms over his lap, hiding his genitals from view. "We can go to the hospital. I don't mind." A crimson blush crept from beneath the collar of his shirt and climbed to color his cheeks. 

Jim stopped his preparations and knelt in front of his lover, resting his hands on Blair's knees. "What's the matter, Sweetheart? You _know_ I can do this for you. You don't have to be embarrassed." 

"I'm not embarrassed," Blair protested. "I mean, it's not like you haven't seen me, touched me, before, but...." 

"But?" Jim prodded when there was a pause in the explanation. 

"But you shouldn't have to do the dirty work, you know? You shouldn't have to wipe my butt or catheterize me." Blair's voice rose with his distress. "You're my lover, not my nurse!" 

Jim wrapped his arms around the shaken young man and held him for several moments. "In sickness and in health, Babe. Isn't that how the saying goes?" he asked. "There's more to being in love than great sex, you know. Part of it is caring for the one you love when he's in need. You're in need now. Let me help?" 

Blair nodded silently and waited while Jim got a fresh collection bag and cleaned the tubing that had fallen on the floor. He knelt in front of the young man. Lifting the flaccid organ, he stroked over the head with his thumb. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. 

"How can you say that?" Blair asked, voice full of astonishment. "It's hideous! All that scarring.... How can you stand to look at me?" 

Jim lifted his head and locked serious blue eyes with those of his partner. "It's beautiful because _you're_ beautiful," he said. "You'll never convince me otherwise." 

Blair shook his head. "I don't understand you sometimes," he whispered. "But I love you." 

"Love you, too," Jim returned the benediction. "Now, take a deep breath, Kiddo. This is going to hurt a bit," Jim warned as he began to carefully thread the catheter line back inside. Blair's quiet tears returned, tearing at his heart. 

Blair had counted the days and hours until his release from the hospital. The pain and humiliation he had suffered there rivaled what Bloomfield had put him through. The only difference being, those people had been trying to help. Now he was home, and the humiliation continued. He hadn't been in the door for five minutes before he lost control of his bowels. Then, in an effort to clean himself, he had detached the catheter. Now Jim was threading the thin tubing back up his sore and abused cock, and the discomfort pressed at the limits of his endurance. Tears came unbidden at the thought of his ignominious homecoming. Even Jim's comforting words weren't enough to stop the flow. 

"There, there, Sweetheart," Jim murmured. "We're almost through." He finished inserting the line, helped Blair up and dressed him. "Would you like to lie down for a while? You look exhausted." 

Blair nodded, pulling himself together. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good," he sniffled. An arm snaked its way around his waist and helped him toward the stairs. Blair balked at the steep incline. "I don't think I can make it up there," he confessed. 

"Would you like a little help? I could carry you," Jim suggested. 

Blair shook his head. "I need to do this," he said. "I need to at least _try_." 

"Okay, then," Jim agreed. "Take them one step at a time, Chief," he encouraged, standing behind Blair as he baby-stepped his way laboriously up the stairs. They stopped twice to let Blair rest on the steps. Each time, Jim pulled him back to his feet and guarded his rear as he continued slowly up to their room. 

Once in the bedroom, Jim made quick work of divesting Blair of most of his clothing. He left the underwear and socks, knowing his lover had spent seventeen long days naked, and that the covering was as symbolic as it was warming. He held the blankets up as Blair carefully crawled onto the mattress. After he had the young man tucked in, he sat on the edge of the bed, stroking a hand through the tousled brown hair. 

"Would you stay a while?" Blair asked softly. "I don't want to be left alone right now." 

"Sure, Sweetheart," Jim agreed, stretching out on top of the covers. 

"Jim?" 

"Hmmm?" 

"Could you do me a favor?" Blair's voice was quiet and uncertain, hesitant to ask. 

Jim stopped his stroking and stretched the short distance to kiss the pouting lips. "Of course, anything. What do you need?" 

"Could you call me by my name sometimes?" he asked. "Bloomfield never used my name. It was like I wasn't important to him. I didn't _have_ a name. I was just 'Baby', 'Sweet Thing', or 'boy' to him -- usually something that belittled me, made me feel less human and more like his toy." Blair shuddered at the memory. "That's all I was to him -- a sex toy, an ass to fuck. He never even tried to love me. Not like you." He reached out and stilled the hand that had returned to petting his hair. He brought it to his mouth and kissed the palm. 

"Blair, sweet Blair," Jim murmured. "You rest. You're home now, and things are just going to get better. You'll see." 

With that reassurance, and Jim's gentle touch, Blair drifted quietly off to sleep. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"God, Jim, I've been thinking about it all day!" Blair growled two weeks later, pushing Jim against the door once they were inside the apartment and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. "I need to touch you, to have you touch me. I may not be ready for sex yet, but I'm gonna go crazy if you don't touch me!" 

"Blair!" Jim protested weakly, letting his crazed lover have his way. "We just got back from the hospital. You only just had the catheter removed, and you're still sore. I don't want to hurt you." 

"You couldn't hurt me if you tried," Blair said, confidence strong in his voice. "All I want is to feel your hands on me again. To feel loved, nurtured. Please, Jim!" His hands slid down the smooth planes of Jim's chest, lightly brushing nipples, which hardened instantly after long neglect. 

"Oh, God, Blair," Jim sighed, allowing himself to be maneuvered to the bedroom stairs. "Only if you _promise_ to tell me when it's too much, or if it brings on bad memories." 

"I promise. Now get your ass out of those clothes!" Blair shoved Jim toward the bed, tugging on his belt using fingers clumsy with need. 

Jim wiggled out of his jeans and underwear, his shirt abandoned downstairs, to stand naked in front of his guide. Blair stroked the ample erection tenderly, causing Jim's cock to quiver with anticipation. "How about you, Sweetheart? May I undress you, or would you rather do it yourself?" Jim asked. 

Blair hesitated. He wanted this, but balked at his own nudity. Memories of seventeen days spent naked and vulnerable still haunted his dreams. "You can," he whispered, trembling with both anticipation and a small measure of fear. 

Jim carefully unbuttoned and set aside Blair's shirt, tenderly kissing the swollen buds of his nipples, suckling to extend the sweet torment. Blair arched under his touch, moaning and begging for more. Jim loosened his belt and unzipped his jeans, pushing the denim down Blair's legs until he was able to step out of the confining pants. He hesitated at the sight of the disposable underwear. 

Blair's heart rate skyrocketed as his "diapers" were revealed. He backed away from his lover, unwilling to give up the last of his protective garments. "I dunno, man," his voice quavered. "Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all." Jim's loving touch had fired his desire in a way that Blair had feared might never be possible again, but the fear of humiliation during their lovemaking had made him withdraw. 

Jim frowned in concern. "Blair, if you don't want to...," he began. 

"I want to!" Blair declared firmly. "It's just... just.... I don't want anything to _happen_ while we're doing it. I-I've had enough embarrassment to last a lifetime." 

Jim moved his hands to Blair's hair, tangling his fingers in the tousled curls and bringing Blair's mouth in contact with his. The kiss was firm and reassuring. When Jim pulled back, he looked into blue eyes filled with both need and indecision. "How about if I clean you first?" he suggested. "We have those mattress pads the hospital gave us to protect the bed. Your control is getting better by the day. A few precautions, and we'll be fine." 

"I-If you think that'll do it," Blair agreed hesitantly. 

"Trust me, Sweetheart. Everything's going to be fine. Better than fine, if I can help it." Jim turned to hurry downstairs to gather towels and the enema kit. When he returned, he found Blair stretched out on the bed, naked and waiting. The gesture almost brought tears to his eyes. The complete and utter trust of his young lover, especially after the ordeal he had suffered, boggled his mind and brought out his strong nurturing instincts: the "Blessed Protector" syndrome, Blair had once called it. 

He piled a thick layer of towels under Blair's hips and put a generous amount of lube on the enema kit's tubing. Before he started, he leaned down to stroke a strand of hair from Blair's cheek and kissed him gently. "It's going to be all right. Just relax for me, okay?" he whispered. Blair nodded and visibly relaxed, trying to slow the hammering of his heart. 

It had to be done. He knew that if he was going to be able to allow the touching he so craved, he had to also allow the ritual cleansing. Fear of losing his bowels during their lovemaking was enough to put a damper on his desire, and he _needed_ this. Like air to breathe, he needed this. 

The tube breached his anus, snaking its way inside his body. As his colon filled with the warm water, Blair's mind was thrown back in time. 

* * *

He lay on a cold, stainless steel table. Hands held him still as the water filled him, cramping his muscles and causing him to cry out in distress. He begged for the pain to stop, but the water continued to fill him beyond his capacity to hold it. 

* * *

A moan escaped his lips, and Blair began to struggle against the invasion of the water into his body. A gentle hand stroked his cheek, and words softly spoken broke through the fog of memory. "Relax, Blair. Sweetheart, we're done. We're done." He felt the rush of water leave his body and the gentle drying of his ass. Then a body wrapped itself around him, and warmth flooded his being, slowing his pulse and renewing his desire. More soft words whispered encouragement. "You're so incredible, Blair. I've never known anyone as strong and brave as you. You're so beautiful. I love you so much." The words were punctuated by kisses along his neck and shoulder, sending delightful shivers of promise down his spine. 

Blair rolled onto his back and admired the handsome man who looked down on him with such fascination and desire. He put out a hand to stroke the erection, which bobbed within his reach and watched as Jim closed his eyes, enjoying the intimate touch. 

Guiding Jim's hips, Blair brought the rigid cock toward his mouth. No ghosts haunted this act of love. Blair swirled his tongue around the head, sucking delightedly on the leaking pre-come much as if he were enjoying his favorite lollipop. Jim's moans above him urged him on. He licked the shaft, moistening the flesh, before swallowing the offering whole. 

It was all Jim could do to hold still and let Blair lead. That talented tongue pushed him closer and closer to his climax. It had been nearly a month and a half since the last time Blair's mouth had teased him, and he didn't know if he'd be able to hold out. When that hot throat opened to engulf him, Jim froze. It was that, or lose it right there. 

Blair waited patiently, finally pushing against Jim's hips to make the man move. Jim began a slow rocking motion that lasted almost no time at all. He tried to pull out of the warm cavern of Blair's mouth, but the young man held tightly to his hips. 

"God, Blair! I'm going to come. Let me go, Sweetheart, please...." His final words were wrung from his throat as his climax washed over him, emptying his seed into Blair's mouth. 

Blair hung on for dear life, wanting nothing more than to give this gift to the man who had saved his life -- whose love for him rivaled the universe in size and magnitude. He swallowed the salty semen, licking Jim clean as he finally pulled out. 

Jim rolled onto his side in a sated heap. He reached out to stroke Blair's cock, surprised to find it partially aroused. Blair groaned with pleasure at the touch, arching into the caress. Pleased by his lover's response, Jim allowed his hand to slip lower, cradling the soft sac of Blair's balls. As he rolled them around, he felt the younger man tense and pull back. 

"What's the matter? Does it hurt?" he asked, concerned at the response to his touch. 

Blair shook his head. "No. No, it's not that," he said, making no further attempt to pull away, but obviously uncomfortable. "It's just that...." 

"What?" Jim murmured, his lips teased the sac, sucking on the tender morsels enclosed within. 

"It's - it's.... God, Jim, doesn't it _bother_ you?" Blair asked. 

"Does what bother me?" Jim wondered, enjoying the feel of his lover again, not wanting to have to stop. 

"Oh, maaaannnnnn...." Blair groaned, arching into the nimble mouth, despite his reservations. Recovering his wits, he tried to explain. "The implant. Doesn't it gross you out?" 

Jim stopped his gentle ministrations to look up at the distressed young man. "No," he said simply. 

"But you can tell the difference?" Blair persisted. "You're a sentinel! You have to know the difference!" 

"Blair, even if I weren't a sentinel, I'd know the difference," Jim explained calmly. "After all, I saw your injury, and the doctor explained the surgery to both of us." 

"Yeah, but...." 

"No 'yeah, but's', Sweetheart. I told you then, and I'm telling you now, it doesn't make a difference to me," Jim emphasized. "I love you, and that's all that matters." He went back to sucking on the balls, noting how Blair's cock twitched in response. The young man was still unable to achieve a full erection due to the damage to his penis and the resulting surgery, but the organ acknowledged his arousal. Blair lay back, sighing and enjoying his lover's touch. 

Reaching up, Jim stroked the pulsing cock, lightly caressing the injured head. Blair's moans of pleasure hitched slightly at the touch, his cock jumping in Jim's hand. 

Jim jerked back at the sound. "Shit! I hurt you! God, Blair, I'm sorry," he apologized. 

Blair smiled and placed Jim's hand back on his cock. "Feels good," he said. "Please don't stop." 

"But I hurt you!" Jim's distress was palpable. 

"Only a little. It's not your fault, Jim," Blair assured him. "It feels so incredible, having you touch me again. Someday soon I'll be able to get hard for you, and we can go back to having intercourse like we used to." 

"Let's not rush things, okay?" Jim asked. "You've still got a lot of recovering to do, and we have all the time in the world." 

Blair nodded and sighed, enjoying the gentle strokes that continued to caress his still-aching cock. He wrapped a hand around Jim's neck, pulling him down into a mutual exploration of their mouths. Once thoroughly kissed, Blair lay back, soaking in the sensation of being loved completely and unconditionally. A satisfied smile graced his mouth as a sigh of pleasure escaped through parted lips. 

_May 24, early morning:_

The beautiful spring morning promised much as the sun filtered down through the skylight to lightly kiss the two figures still curled in the bed. Jim reached out and gathered his partner into his arms, stroking his fingers through the tangled mane of curls. 

"Mmmm?" came a murmur from beneath his hands. Blair's eyes opened slowly. He smiled. "'Morning, Jim." 

"Good morning, Birthday Boy," Jim answered back, a broad smile lighting his face. 

Blair snuggled more deeply into Jim's embrace, reluctant to get out of bed. "Do I have to get up?" he whined softly. 

"'Fraid so, Sweetheart," Jim said with a note of reluctance. "It's dialysis day." 

"Not fair," the young man moaned. "Don't wanna go." 

"I know, but you have to," Jim reminded him. "Besides, don't try to tell me that you haven't had some trouble urinating lately." 

"Jiiiim," Blair protested weakly. "Can't a guy have _any_ privacy?" 

Jim shook his head, leveling a smile at his upset partner. "It's difficult _not_ to listen when you're moaning and swearing when you pee." 

"It burns a little," Blair told him. "No big deal." 

"Talk to Dr. Masterson about it," Jim instructed. "If you don't, _I_ will." 

"You act like such a dictator sometimes," Blair said with a feigned pout. 

" _Someone_ has to act like the grownup around here," Jim insisted. He paused, uncomfortable with the next subject that had to be broached. "Uh, there's one more thing...." 

When Jim stopped speaking, Blair pulled away slightly to look into the light blue eyes. "Yes?" he prodded. 

"I hate to ask this, especially on your birthday," Jim began, "but, do you mind if I drop you off at the center? Simon's got me on a big case, and I'm at a crucial point in the investigation...." 

Blair's eyes looked bleak, but he forced a smile. "No. That's okay, Jim. You've got a job to do. You can't be playing nursemaid to me all the time." 

"The center's a close walk to the station," Jim reminded him. "Why don't you come over afterward, and we can go out to lunch together? I'm sure the gang would love to see you again." 

"I'll see," Blair answered. "Depends on how I feel after." 

"If you don't show up, I'll call the apartment," Jim said. "Just to check up on you and see how you're doing." 

"Okay." Blair sighed, then looked up at Jim earnestly. "Would you make love to me this morning?" 

The question took Jim by surprise. Since Blair had healed from his surgery, they had had petting sessions -- Blair had even given him several excellent blow-jobs, but they had never had intercourse. "Are you sure, Blair?" he asked, hesitant to proceed. 

"The surgery has healed. I got my control back, _finally_ ," Blair sighed. "My butt's still a little sore from the tattoo removal, but not enough to stop us." He turned his puppy dog stare on his hapless lover. "Jim, I don't know what it is, but I just have a really bad feeling. Something's going to happen today. I've been feeling a little more run down these past few days, and I'm afraid the doctor may decide to restrict some of my activities. Please? I need this." 

"We go slow," Jim insisted. "Like it was your first time. And you tell me if anything upsets you." 

"I promise," Blair said, crossing his heart and smiling broadly. 

Jim sighed. "Any position you prefer? I mean, was there any position that that scum-bag didn't use?" 

"He never let me sit in his lap," Blair whispered. "That would have given the control to me, and _he_ had to be in control, to be the dominant partner." 

"Then you'll sit on my lap," Jim decided. "How does that sound?" 

"Good." 

"Okay, roll over then, and let me get you ready." Jim grabbed the lube from the nightstand drawer and warmed it in his hands before squeezing a generous amount on his index finger. "Relax for me, Sweetheart. Just one finger this time," Jim said. 

Blair tensed as the finger probed at his hole, wanting the intimate touch, yet frightened of it as well. Jim's soothing voice floated over him, telling him to relax, massaging tense muscles with his free hand. Blair concentrated on his meditation breathing. This was the man he loved doing what he, himself, had requested. He could relax. He _would_ relax. 

"Good, Blair. That's great," Jim praised as his finger slipped past the tight sphincter muscle and slowly entered the constricted passage. He stroked the velvety lining, feeling for Blair's prostate. The small cry of pleasure from above told him he had hit his mark. Pulling out his one finger, he lubed two and entered again. The process was slow, but Jim would not allow Blair to make love to him this way without first guaranteeing that flashbacks to his confinement were minimized. Finally, he was satisfied, and rolled over onto his back, allowing Blair to climb on top and slowly lower himself onto Jim's aching shaft. 

The lovemaking was a sensual feast, mutually gratifying to both participants. Blair's climax sprayed both men with salty come, while the internal contractions milked Jim's orgasm soon after. Blair collapsed on top of his lover, still impaled on the softening cock. 

"That was a great way to start a birthday," Blair said with a satisfied smile. 

Jim returned the sated grin, rolling over and pulling out of his partner. He placed a warm kiss on lips already swollen from their ardor. "Maybe we'll try again this evening," he suggested, eliciting a nod of agreement from the young man. 

"Blair?" Jim began hesitantly, wondering how to bring up a delicate subject. Since his partner was feeling so mellow from their lovemaking, he decided this was as good a time as any. 

"Huh?" Blair asked, when Jim paused. 

"It may not be my place to ask," he began. 

Blair interrupted, snuggling close to the strong chest. "No secrets. You can ask me anything." 

"When to you plan to get tested? I mean, you can provide a semen sample now...." Jim stuttered to a halt. 

"To see if I'm sterile?" Blair asked softly. Blushing, Jim nodded. "I'm not." 

"You're not sterile?" Jim asked, his eyes lighting up. "When did you have the test done?" 

Blair shook his head. "I'm not _having_ the test done," he clarified. "Think about it, Jim. We're a couple. I love you. There's no way in hell I'm ever leaving you, not even to marry some nice woman and start a family. Between the two of us, what does it matter? Neither of us is going to be getting pregnant anyway... unless there's something you know about gay sex that you're not telling me," he added with a grin. 

Jim chuckled. "I guess you have a point there. But don't you want to know?" 

"Not really," Blair answered. "This way I can fantasize about how virile I am. If I had the test done and it showed I was sterile, there'd be no hope to cling to anymore. I'm happier this way." 

"That's what's important," Jim agreed. "Your happiness. But now," he continued, "we both need a shower. It's time to get a move on." 

They performed their morning ablutions quickly, grabbing a light breakfast before heading out into the morning. 

"You sure you're okay with this?" Jim asked, dropping Blair off at the door to the dialysis center. "I can make arrangements with Simon if you'd like me to be there." 

"Nah, I'm good, man," Blair said, waving his partner away. "You've got work to do. We'll celebrate tonight." 

"See you for lunch?" Jim reminded him. 

Blair nodded. "You bet... if I can," he added. "Don't forget, Dr. Masterson was going to discuss my latest kidney tests. Don't worry if I'm a little late." 

~oO0Oo~ 

One o'clock. Jim stared at the utilitarian clock on the wall of Major Crime. Blair's dialysis would have ended at noon. Even with the doctor coming to discuss his test results, Blair should have been at the station by now. Picking up the phone, he dialed the loft, hoping the young man had simply changed his mind and gone home. 

"You have reached the Ellison-Sandburg residence," Blair's resonant voice spoke from the answering machine. "You know the drill: leave your name, phone number and a short message, and we'll get back to you. Ciao!" The machine beeped and Jim hung up. Worry began to niggle at the back of his mind. 

~oO0Oo~ 

The phone on Jim's desk rang. He dropped his case discussion with Joel Taggert and made a dash for the instrument. A glance at the clock showed it was 2:30. "Ellison!" he barked into the receiver. 

_"Jim?"_ the voice on the other end of the line quivered with unshed tears. 

"Blair?" Jim's protective instincts were immediately online at the sound of the frightened voice. "Where are you? What's going on?" 

_"I'm in the hospital,"_ came the soft voice. _"Dr. Masterson admitted me. He said he thinks I have an upper urinary tract infection. If it involves the kidneys, he's worried that it could result in kidney failure if it's not treated right away."_ A sniffle could be heard on the other end of the line as Blair wiped his eyes and blew his nose. _"Could you come, Jim? Please?"_

"I'll be right there," Jim promised. 

"What is it?" Simon asked, noticing the tensing in Jim's body during the call. Taggert wandered over to stand by the captain, ready to offer support to Jim, if needed. 

"Blair's in the hospital," Jim answered curtly. "He's got an infection that might affect his kidneys. The doctor says it's serious." 

"Aw, shit," Joel cursed, devastated by the news that his young friend was suffering from yet another life-threatening illness as a complication of his imprisonment. "Need a ride to the hospital?" he offered. 

"No. I'll be fine on my own," Jim assured both men. "Thanks." He hurried out the door and down to the parking garage. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"Hey there," the nurse greeted Blair as he entered the dialysis center. "I hear congratulations are in order. Happy Birthday!" 

Blair smiled at her. "Thanks. Some way to spend a birthday, huh?" he said, only half joking. 

Cynthia nodded. "Yeah, it sucks big time," she agreed. "But maybe I can sneak you in a little treat." She winked, knowing how the diet restrictions were wearing on the young man. "Jim coming in today?" she asked as she got the equipment set up and Blair connected to it. 

"Nah. He had to work." Blair settled in the comfortable chair and put his feet up. "I'm on my own." 

"Well, feel free to call if you need anything." Cynthia placed a quick kiss on his forehead. "You're feeling a little warm today," she commented, looking critically at the young man. "Maybe I should take your temperature." She produced a digital thermometer from one of her deep pockets and poked it in Blair's left ear. She shook her head. "You're 103.2 degrees. I'm going to call Dr. Masterson. You just relax." 

Blair sighed. "Oh yeah, like that's going to happen _now_." 

Within twenty minutes there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he called. 

Dr. Masterson entered, followed closely by Cynthia. "I hear you're running a fever," the doctor commented, coming over to check for himself. "How have you been feeling the past few days?" 

"Fine," Blair said, tiptoeing around the fact he'd been feeling a little run down. 

The doctor eyed him, shaking his head. "Any nausea, vomiting, chills?" Blair shook his head. "Back pain, around the kidneys?" 

Blair nodded at that one. "I've been a little achy lately," he admitted. "I get cold, especially at night, but that's not unusual for me." 

Masterson nodded. "I'm going to have Cynthia help collect a urine sample. I'd like to run it by the labs and make sure we're not dealing with an infection here." 

"Do you have the results of my kidney tests?" Blair asked, knowing the doctor had planned to discuss that with him today. 

"As a matter of fact," the doctor answered with a smile, "the diet and dialysis seem to be doing the job. Your kidney function is up to forty percent now, and appears to be rising. Once you hit the sixty percent mark, we'll take you off the dialysis and see if the diet alone will do the trick. You're on your way to a complete recovery. Meanwhile, we have a possible infection to deal with. That could cause a setback if not treated promptly and aggressively. We'll get that sample, and I'll have the results to you by the end of your session here." 

"Thanks," Blair said with a nod to the departing doctor. 

"You look a little nervous," Cynthia noted. "Don't worry, this won't take long. Can you unfasten your pants for me?" Blair fumbled with the zipper on his fly, finally getting it open. "May I?" Cynthia asked, reaching into the fly to pull out Blair's penis. She swabbed it with an antiseptic wipe, then looked up into her patient's beet-red face. "Sorry," she said with a smile. "No need to be embarrassed. Now, what I need you to do is start a urine stream into this urinal, then stop and pee a sample into the cup. You can finish in the urinal. Think you can do that?" 

Blair nodded as Cynthia placed a waterproof disposable sheet in his lap to protect in case of an accident. After several minutes, Blair was unable to produce the requested sample. "I-I guess I'm not used to going with an audience," he admitted shyly. 

"Well, how about if I step outside for a few minutes?" the nurse suggested. "Just make sure to catch a mid-stream sample for us. Okay?" Blair nodded and Cynthia walked out of the room. When she returned ten minutes later, Blair had the requested sample and was neatly tucked away and zipped again. 

"Great!" Cynthia said, taking the urinal and sample container. "I'll get these right down to the lab." 

Blair was left alone to worry over the test results. At least his kidney function was improving. That was great news. Jim would be pleased, he mused. 

By noon, Blair was itching to get out of the dialysis center and over to the station to have lunch with Jim. He'd had all he needed of hospitals for one day, especially on his birthday. A knock sounded at the door, and Dr. Masterson entered, followed by Carol, Blair's prior nurse. She waited by the door, her smile forced. 

Dr. Masterson looked down at his clipboard, then back up at his patient. "I'm sorry, Blair. The results of your urine test show that you have a serious urinary tract infection. I'm going to have to admit you to do more tests to find out the source. If it's a lower UTI, I can release you with antibiotics. If it's an upper UTI, involving your kidneys, you'll have to stay until the infection is cleared up. An upper UTI infection, with your current disease, could result in serious complications, including total renal failure. 

"I have your admittance papers here," he continued, handing the clipboard to Blair. "All I need is to have you sign them here and here," he pointed, "and we can have Carol take you up to your room." 

"Um, don't I get a say in this?" Blair questioned. "I mean, it's my birthday, for crap's sake! I don't want to be admitted to the hospital today." 

"I wouldn't recommend going home," the doctor insisted. "You're showing signs of an upper UTI infection. If that's the case, the sooner you get treatment, the better." 

"No!" Blair denied the pronouncement. "I was fine this morning! I've been fine! How could this happen so fast?" 

Dr. Masterson shook his head. Such denial was not uncommon. He reached out to pat Blair's knee. "Trust me in this, son. Please. You're _not_ 'fine'. You need to be admitted to the hospital today. Unfortunately, these infections can come on rather suddenly, with little warning." 

"Can I call Jim?" Blair asked with a sigh, resigned to his fate. 

"Once we've run the tests we need to pinpoint your infection," the doctor informed him. He tapped the clipboard and Blair signed his name, feeling as though he might as well be signing his life away. 

Carol brought over a wheelchair. "In you go," she prompted. Blair eased up out of the big lounge and settled himself in the wheelchair. "You'll be on my floor again," she said with a grin. "I think we can even get you your old room." 

The admission brought a smile to Blair's lips. "Really? That's cool." Carol had been Blair's favorite nurse. She had always managed to say and do everything just right to minimize the continued humiliation Blair had had to submit to while in the hospital. 

Carol wheeled Blair into his room, then stayed to help him undress. Blair fumbled with his belt buckle, and Carol deftly loosened it for him. "I don't know what's wrong with me," Blair complained. "I feel like I'm all thumbs." 

"It's called 'shock'," Carol informed him, helping him into the revealing hospital gown, then getting him settled in the bed. "This isn't exactly the news you were expecting today, was it?" 

Blair shook his head. "I had a feeling, almost a premonition, that something was going to happen today," he admitted. "I just never guessed it would be _this_." 

Carol wrapped a rubber tourniquet around Blair's upper arm, in preparation to draw blood. As she placed the needle and began drawing the vials, she looked up at her patient. "Today's your birthday?" 

"Yeah. I'm twenty-three," Blair answered despondently. "Think I'll see twenty-four?" 

Carol smiled encouragingly. "I think you'll see ninety-four," she said with conviction. She finished filling the last of the vials. "Now we just need to get you connected to all your IVs. Dr. Masterson is going to have a portable dialysis unit brought in here. You'll still need your treatments, and this way will be much easier. You're through for the day, though," she added when a panicked look crossed Blair's face. 

"Can I call Jim now?" he asked. 

"Soon as these IVs are set," Carol agreed. "There," she said a few minutes later. Picking the phone up from the nightstand, she placed it in Blair's lap. "Wouldn't want Jim worrying about you." 

Blair waited until Carol left him alone, then picked up the receiver and dialed. 

_"Ellison!"_ the voice on the other end of the line barked. 

"Jim?" Blair's soft voice quivered with unshed tears. 

_"Blair?"_ The frightened voice triggered an immediate protective response in the detective. _"Where are you? What's going on?"_

"I'm in the hospital," Blair answered quietly. "Dr. Masterson admitted me. He said he thinks I have an upper urinary tract infection. If it involves the kidneys, he's worried that it could result in kidney failure if it's not treated right away." He paused to wipe at his tearing eyes and blow his nose before continuing. "Could you come, Jim? Please?" 

_"I'll be right there,"_ Jim promised. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim stood stroking the silken curls and holding Blair as Dr. Masterson explained to him what he had recently finished telling his patient. 

"The results of the tests indicate a serious upper urinary tract infection that affects the kidneys," the doctor said. "We need to treat the infection aggressively with heavy doses of antibiotics and monitor Blair carefully. His kidney function has been improving, but this infection could reverse that trend and result in total renal failure." 

"What are his chances of recovery?" Jim asked. 

"Very good, so long as he stays hospitalized until we have the infection under control." 

"How long?" Jim persisted. 

"Three to four days, at the least," Dr. Masterson said. "Probably closer to a week. I'd like to be certain the infection hasn't affected the kidney function before I send him home." 

"What if it does, then what?" Blair asked, almost afraid to hear the answer, but wanting to be prepared. 

The doctor turned a comforting look on his patient. "At this point, I think we caught it early enough that there shouldn't be a problem," he explained. "If, however, there is a significant drop in your kidney function, I'd want to keep you hospitalized. Depending on the severity of the drop, you might be a candidate for the transplant list." Blair's jaw dropped and he looked like a panic attack was about to set in. "Son, that's just the worst case scenario," the doctor comforted. "I would expect at least a slight drop, due to the infection, but I don't foresee anything that serious at this point." 

"It's okay, Chief," Jim soothed. "Everything's going to be all right." 

"Blair, I want you to rest. I've put a mild sedative into your IV that will help you sleep," Dr. Masterson noted. "Jim, you can stay if you like, but please encourage Blair to relax. I'll check in on you later," he said, exiting the room. 

"It's not fair," Blair sniffled once they were alone. "It's my birthday, man. Things like this aren't supposed to happen on your birthday." 

Jim sat next to the bed, cradling Blair's hand in one of his and brushing the wild strands of curls off the young man's face with the other. "Life sucker-punches us sometimes," he agreed. "But we'll make up for it. I promise." He stood so that he could place a reassuring kiss on Blair's forehead. 

"My back hurts," Blair fussed, trying to get comfortable. 

"Roll over onto your stomach," Jim commanded gently. When Blair complied, he began kneading the muscles in his lower back, massaging away the aches. 

"Mmmm..." Blair murmured into his pillow. "Feels good." 

"Close your eyes. I'll stay until you're asleep." Jim kept up the gentle massage, feeling the tense muscles relax under his hands. "Don't worry," he added when the patient started to protest, "I'll be back this evening. Rest now." He kept up the kneading until Blair closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip into sleep. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"Are you awake?" Carol poked her head into the dimness of Blair's room. 

"Yeah, Carol," Blair nodded. "You can turn on the light." 

She entered the room and fussed over Blair, giving him a quick physical. "How are you feeling this evening?" 

"Okay, considering," Blair mumbled. 

"You're bummed that it's your birthday," Carol astutely noted. "Can't say I blame you. I wouldn't want to be stuck here on my birthday, either. I've got a little something that might make you feel better, though," she teased. When Blair's eyes lit up, she continued. "Dr. Masterson gave the okay for this, but I've already told them to keep the whole thing to no more than a half hour." She turned and motioned to someone out in the hallway. 

Blair's eyes widened as the detectives of Major Crime began to fill his room. Captain Banks came in first with a bouquet of "Get Well Soon" balloons tied to a huge chrysanthemum plant. Joel Taggert pushed in behind with another bouquet of flowers and a large teddy bear he'd found in the gift shop. 

Blair took the bear with some amusement, cuddling it to one side of his bed. "Thanks, Joel," he chuckled. "Thank you, too, Simon. The balloons are great!" He was stopped from further comment as more people crowded into his small room. 

Rafe and Henri Brown came in with more flowers and several boxes of jigsaw puzzles. "Something to keep you out of trouble when Jim's not around to keep an eye on you," H teased, handing over the puzzles. 

"Thanks, guys," Blair said, genuinely touched despite the joking. 

"There's more!" Blair could hear Jim's voice call from out in the hall. "Move over, would you?" Jim grumped, clearing the way for Megan Connor. 

The Aussie Inspector strutted in with a big sheet cake decorated with red roses and proclaiming "Happy Birthday Blair -- Get Well Soon." Jim followed, carrying more balloons and a package. 

"Happy Birthday, Sweetheart," he said, leaning in to give Blair a quick peck on the lips. 

"All this is for me?" Blair asked, astonished. He took the package from Jim and tore into the paper. "Oh my God, Jim!" He laid the book in his lap, his hand ghosting over the title, The Sentinels of Paraguay by Sir Richard Burton. 

"Thought you might like a copy of your own," Jim said shyly. 

Blair wiped at his eyes, which threatened to embarrass him with tears. "It's great! This is my best birthday yet!" he said, looking around at the assembled group. 

"Dr. Masterson said you could have _one_ piece of cake," Carol said, coming into the crowded room. "Everyone eat up. Blair needs his rest," she reminded them. 

Megan put the cake on the bed table and produced a knife. She began cutting slices and putting them on the paper plates the nurse had provided. 

"If I only get one piece," Blair stated, "make it _big_." 

The room erupted in laughter as Jim passed over a generous slice of cake and a plastic fork. Blair dug into the treat like he hadn't eaten all day. The restrictive diet his ailing kidneys forced him into had eliminated most sweets and fatty foods. The cake tasted like the nectar of the gods to the starving young man. 

He finally came up for breath. "That's great!" he mumbled through the cake crumbs still in his mouth. "Got anything to wash it down with?" 

"I was told you could have one cup of coffee on your birthday. How does that sound?" Carol suggested. 

"I get coffee, too?" Blair was incredulous. Caffeine was _definitely_ out of his diet. He savored the scent of the strong, rich brew before sipping carefully at the hot liquid. "Did I die and go to heaven?" he asked, looking around the room. "None of you look much like angels." 

"Not heaven," Jim told him. "Just a birthday treat. You really looked like you needed some cheering up this afternoon. Think you can hold out in here for another week?" 

"Right now, I feel like I could do _anything_ ," Blair replied with a happy smile. The smile turned to a slight frown, and he tugged on Jim's sleeve. 

"What's up?" Jim asked, eyeing Blair with concern. 

"I gotta go," Blair whispered, soft enough that only sentinel ears could make out the words. His cheeks flushed bright pink. 

"That shouldn't be a problem," Jim said. "Here, let me help you out of bed." Maneuvering the IV pole so that Blair didn't get tangled in all the lines feeding into his veins, he helped the young man to sit up. 

"Jiiiiim...." Blair whined softly, waving a hand to indicate their audience and his embarrassment. "I've barely got anything on!" 

"Chief, if you gotta go, you gotta go," Jim insisted, helping Blair slide off the bed. He walked close behind the embarrassed young man, helping to keep the skimpy hospital gown closed, and Blair's "southern exposure" to a minimum. "It was the coffee, wasn't it?" he teased. 

"Probably," Blair grumped, shuffling his way across the room. When he emerged from the bathroom after relieving himself, he found his visitors calmly chatting among themselves. Jim helped him back onto the bed, covering him once he was settled. 

"You throw a great party, Sandy," Megan said with a grin, walking over to the bedside as though Blair had never left. 

"You're the ones who threw the party for _me_ ," Blair reminded her, his embarrassment fading. 

"Oh, right you are!" Megan laughed. "Well, happy birthday! I hope all your wishes come true." 

"They pretty much already have," Blair admitted. 

"Okay, everybody. Out." Carol began shooing the visitors from the room. The guests all called out their good-byes as they left the young man alone with his partner. 

"Happy Birthday, Blair," Jim said, giving the young man another, longer, kiss. "You're going to be just fine, but now you really have to get your rest." He pressed Blair back, taking the empty plate and cup and setting them on the side table. Pulling up the blanket, he tucked the student and his new teddy bear into the bed. When he tried to pry the book from Blair's hands, though, the young man wouldn't let go. 

"You're not getting this away from me," he protested. "You gave it to me." A ghost of a smile curled his lips. 

"Yes, I did, but now you have to sleep," Jim said, persisting at pulling the book out of the strong grasp. He finally succeeded, and put it next to the remnants of the cake. Pulling up the room's one semi-comfortable chair, he settled himself next to the bed. 

"Jim?" Blair reached out, searching for Jim's hand. "You don't have to stay." 

The sentinel smiled and shook his head. "You think I'm going to leave you alone on your birthday? Uh-uh." He clasped the questing hand and brought it to his lips. "You've had enough disappointments for one day. I want to make sure you sleep well tonight." 

Blair relaxed back into his pillows. "Love you, man." 

"Love you too, Kiddo." He stood and imparted one last kiss on the waiting lips. "Happy Birthday." 

Blair closed his eyes, a satisfied smile assuring Jim that the young man was truly going to be all right. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"Your white cell count is nearly back to normal," Dr. Masterson pronounced six days later. "And the results of the kidney function tests show you're holding steady at forty-three percent." 

"Does that mean I get to go home?" the anxious young man asked. 

"Absolutely," the doctor confirmed. He turned to Jim who had become a fixture in Blair's room. "He'll need to continue taking his antibiotics for another two full weeks. I'm not taking any chances that this infection might come back. You'll have to continue your dialysis," he said, turning back to his patient. "But at the rate you're improving, I suspect you'll be off that and on just the diet before the end of the year." 

"That's great news," Jim said, patting Blair's back confidently. 

"You can get dressed now," Masterson said. "I'll have Carol bring by the release papers for you to sign as well as your chariot out of here. See you next week," he told Blair as he walked out, closing the door behind him. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"Oh, man, Jim! Is this real?" Blair asked, turning around in circles to take in the view of the loft. 

"What's the matter, Sandburg?" Jim teased. "You only left a week ago. You'd think you'd been gone for a year!" 

"It feels like a lifetime," Blair said, sighing. Then putting on his most determined face, he continued. "This is the last of it. I swear. It's all uphill from here." 

"From your mouth to God's ear," Jim agreed fervently. He sat down next to the grad student. "I've got more good news for you," he said. Seeing that he had Blair's interest, he continued. "I went over to Rainier and spoke with the Dean of Humanities and the Chancellor, and explained why you hadn't been in school." 

"Oh, Jim! You didn't tell them about... about Bloomfield?" 

"Only that you were kidnapped and hurt, and that your recovery has been a long one," Jim assured him. "They agreed to let you finish out your courses during the summer term. You'll get full credit for the classes, and you won't be behind when the fall semester starts." 

Jim soon found himself at the bottom of a pile of excited lover. After thoroughly kissing his sentinel, Blair snuggled into his shoulder, allowing Jim to wrap strong arms around him. "That's perfect! Oh, Jim... _Thank you_! Blair gushed, words failing him as he got caught up in his excitement and arousal. 

"Down, Babe," Jim soothed. "You're not quite ready for _that_ yet." 

Blair blushed, knowing that Jim could smell his arousal, the leaking pre-come that dampened his underwear in his excitement. "Sorry, Jim. I can't help it. I finally have a lifetime to look forward to... and someone to share it with." He laughed, the sound being the pure music of someone with joy to spare. 

_June 14:_

Blair grinned with anticipation, thinking of how Jim would react to his birthday gift. It had been three months since the end of his ordeal. His recovery and healing had been a long and torturous journey in its own right, but now it was over. Except for the continuing dialysis and diet, life had resumed something resembling normalcy for the two lovers. 

He put the finishing touches on the sweet and sour chicken as he stirred the noodles and vegetable mixture in the wok. Jim would be home any minute now, and Chinese was one of his favorites. Blair had spent the better part of the afternoon preparing the meal as a special surprise. 

He turned off the burners and pulled the finished meal from the heat. Wiping his hands on the apron tied around his waist, he made his way toward the upstairs bedroom. He stripped, folding his clothes into a neat pile which he placed on a chair. Walking around the room, he busied himself lighting the candles that still remained from their meditation session months ago. He pulled down the comforter on the bed and climbed beneath the covers to wait. 

"I could smell that all the way down the hall," Jim exclaimed a few minutes later as he walked in the front door. "I'm starved. When do we eat?" 

Blair's voice drifted down from the loft bedroom. "As soon as you unwrap your present." 

Jim looked up to see his lover peeking through the railing at the head of the bed. Curiosity got the better of him, and he climbed the stairs to find the young man nestled in their bed, the blankets pulled up to his chin. "Where's my present?" 

"Right in front of you," came the enigmatic answer. "But you have to undress first." 

"This had better be good," Jim growled, shedding his shirt. "I'm hungry." 

"So am I," Blair answered with a smile. "But not for stir-fry." 

Divesting himself of the last of his clothing, Jim climbed onto the bed. He pulled back the covers to find his lover naked and erect, waiting for him. Abruptly, his own appetite shifted from one of physical hunger to arousal. He crawled across the mattress, intent on consuming the feast laid out before him. 

Blair trembled slightly as his sentinel began a sensuous mapping of his body through touch and taste. The wet tongue laved his right nipple before teeth nipped at the tender bud, sending waves of desire back to Blair's cock, which was already full and straining for release. 

The scent of pre-come titillated the sentinel's fine sense of smell. He worked his way quickly down his lover's body, toward his goal. His lips wrapped around the head of the leaking cock, tasting the sweetness. His tongue traced the healing scar tissue, swirling around the flared head and lapping at the underside of the shaft. 

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Blair hissed, bucking his hips beneath his lover as the hungry mouth devoured him. He squirmed beneath the relentless attention, crying out his pleasure as Jim's fingers breached his entrance, reaching deep to stroke his prostate. His cock twitched and he felt his balls contract with his impending orgasm. 

Jim opened his throat, taking in Blair's full length. His tongue felt the gentle pulsing of the vein on the underside of the shaft, felt the organ fill toward climax as his fingers reached into the tight confines of Blair's ass to stroke the pleasure point deep inside. 

"Oh my God, Jim! Oh my God!" came the strangled cry as Blair reached the pinnacle and his orgasm washed over him, filling Jim's mouth with his seed. 

Hungrily, Jim drank down the offering, suckling the spent cock as it slowly softened in his mouth. Finally, he let it slide out, and made his way back up the slim body to kiss the full lips which lay parted, panting in the wake of climax. 

Blair tasted himself on Jim's tongue, the sensation sending an electric shock down his spine making his spent cock twitch with anticipation. But he was too relaxed, too sated to get it up again. His arms wrapped around his lover, holding on tight. This was what it felt like to be cherished, to be loved. He felt fingers probing once again at his hole and he spread his legs to give better access. 

Jim prepared him slowly, determined each time they made love that Blair would feel only pleasure, never discomfort or pain. His fingers gently scissored, stretching the opening as his mouth devoured its mate and strong arms held him close. Finally, he deemed the passage ready and rolled Blair onto his stomach. 

He froze at the sight that greeted his eyes. 

"Oh my God, Blair! You didn't!" he cried, staring at a sienna-colored tattoo in flowing script that graced the roundness of Blair's ass: 

_My Heart Belongs to_
    
    
           _Jim_
         _Ellison_
    

"It's all right," Blair soothed. "Don't go off the deep end, Jim. It's just a henna tattoo. It'll wash off in a few days." He laughed at the look of confusion on Jim's face. "Happy Birthday!" 

"Your heart had better not be the only thing that belongs to me," he growled, straddling the naked body. 

Blair drew himself up on his knees, offering himself. "All of me is yours, only yours," he whispered as they joined in the ancient dance of life. 

Downstairs, the television softly reported the breaking news. _Business magnate, Gordon Bloomfield, was convicted today on several counts, including the kidnapping, rape and torture of an unidentified Rainier University student. He was sentenced to twenty-five years to life without the chance of parole. The District Attorney told us, "It will be a cold day in hell before Bloomfield sees the light of day...."_

The End 

* * *

Spoiler warning: This story contains a scene with a partial castration. Blair loses one testicle to Bloomfield's torture, but it is eventually replaced with a silicon implant so that by the end of the story, Blair at least _appears_ whole. 

* * *

End Paid in Full by Natalie L: nat1228@comcast.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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